Trash in Our Baskets

A friend sent me some kids’ cute sayings the other day. Maybe you’ve heard this one: A four-year-old was heard praying, “And forgive us our trash baskets [trespasses] as we forgive those who put trash in our baskets.”

That brought back to mind an experience of a few years ago. People in the neighborhood were busy raking their lawns, getting ready for the first greening of spring. I decided that the first thing on my agenda was gathering up some of the trash that had accumulated over the winter. So armed with a big plastic bag, I began to pick out the items that had been caught in the clumps of long grass next to the fence.

A plastic bread wrapper. Wait a minute, this is definitely not mine--I don’t buy this brand! Impatiently, I shoved it into my trash bag. A receipt from the lumber yard for eight 2 x 4’s, some nails, and a T-square. I knew nothing at all about that! Part of a paper cup from the ‘burger place, some foam packing “peanuts,” a tennis ball. None of these were mine, I was positive, but into the bag they all went.

I raked under the bushes that surround the porch. Elm and redbud leaves, of course, but catalpa and huge maple leaves? Those didn’t come from any trees of mine! I raked them up anyway, but I started to ponder having to clean up all the stuff in my yard that didn’t even belong to me. What would happen, I wondered, if I just refused to pick up what wasn’t mine?

Obviously, disowning items that became “mine” by default would not be the solution, since ignoring trash will not make it go away. No one was going to come and rake my yard just because the stuff wasn’t left there by me. If I wanted the trash removed, I would have to do it. Regardless of whose trees or habit of tossing litter actually created the mess, it was now in my yard, and therefore now my problem.

So then I began to think about how my spiritual yard gets stuff in it too. There are thoughts that threaten my peace, and snarly attitudes that demand to be given a place. There are tasks that consume more attention than they deserve, and questions that clamor to be heard. My conflicting motivations and my personal temptations all leave something behind. Trash. Clutter. Where did all this come from? I hate to admit it, but this “heart trash” is really mine!

When I go out into the work world or to the grocery store or to the shop where I get my car repaired, I may see and hear things that totally distract me. The clutter can even enter my own living room through the TV or a book or a visitor. A rigorous raking is just what my heart needs—not annually, but often! It must be bagged and hauled off, even if I was unaware that it had been accumulating. Once it comes into my life, I am responsible for its removal, regardless of its origin.

I need to pray often the childish prayer, “Forgive me my trash baskets, as I forgive those who put trash in my basket!”

MaryMartha
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Email: mrymrtha@gmail.com