Dishes are forever.

As the saying goes, we are told that diamonds are forever. Maybe it’s true. My diamonds are holding up nicely so far. The divorce rate may tell us a different story but I digress. 

But do you know what’s realllllly forever? 

Dishes. 

They. never. stop. 

There are days I want to rip my ever-loving hair out if I have to empty the dishwasher one more time. Sometimes, when I feel like really punishing myself, I will stop and think about this little diddy:

I have to wash dishes for the rest of my life. 

I want to curl in a ball and cry. When I face a dish-duty meltdown, my husband steps in. He does the dishes and I am so grateful (and lucky. I know this isn’t the case for everyone). Then he offers fun advice like “Babe, just get paper plates.”

Yeah, sounds easy enough. Except have you read “7” by Jen Hatmaker? Yeah, don’t. She has a chapter about waste and recycling and all that and it officially ruined me on unnecessary paper plate waste. My husband already drinks bottled water because he is a water snob. I cannot handle contributing any more than that to the destruction of God’s resources. 

My word of the year is contentment. It is my aim to focus, to meditate and try to grow in contentment. This stemmed from the overwhelming realization that life is mostly the mundane. Like dishes. And laundry. And work. And cooking (don’t even get me started). The list goes on of the daily necessities to keep this life going. 

I’m 28. The lavish life of luxury I lived under my parents’ roof, followed by four glorious college years, did absolute nothing to prepare me to cope with the mundane. It makes me itch for something new, something to build, something fabulous and prestigious to yank me out of the funk of daily life. 

But guess what kids? That’s not real life or even wise to be constantly trying to find something new to distract from the daily requirements of life. 

I don’t want to feel overwhelmed or underwhelmed; I want to feel contentment. 

I’m reading, praying, conversing and crying my way through this process. I believe there is beauty in the monotonous rhythm of life because the miraculous is mixed with the mundane. We just have to look for it. 

So that’s what I’m doing. I’m learning to find contentment in the day-to-day and find the miracles in the mundane. Maybe it’s my son’s new phrase “Hold you, momma.” Or the soothing sound of frogs in our pond at night. Or signing a new client at work. Each of these has merit and I don’t want to be so disgusted by the dishes that I fail to find the good in life’s big and small moments. 

It doesn't hurt this is my view for doing dishes. Except, how do you do dishes and look out the window at the same time? Someone teach me, please.