Dishes a Poem |
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DishesA poem Of Thankfulness
I will forever wonder, Lord
how a family of six people
can have fifteen dirty dishes
in the sink by four o’clock.
I washed ten earlier today,
and a dozen at breakfast.
So, now here I am once more,
I have to scrape, scrub, and wash
them up all over again.
Forgive my complaining
Lord, I really don’t mean to.
I know I should be thankful.
Because dirty dishes mean
we served food on them today,
when so many others did not.
We have soap and water to wash with
and a clean sink to do it in, when
so many of your children do not.
Lord, forgive me for forgetting
the blessing of dirty dishes.
Published 2006 in the Shepard
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