One Less Dish To Wash

Washing dishes was never a favorite task of mine.

Because of my disdain for the job, all of my boys learned how to wash dishes.

It came in handy at times, as a mom of four young children.

They didn't seem to mind a bit!

In fact, they had lots of fun. 

Mom didn't even flinch when they made enormous bubble towers and played in the water for hours.

They were good about not dropping dishes on the floor, and never left a mess behind.

I think I was probably the one that broke most of the dishes that fell to the floor.

If anything crashed, I was frantic, with all the little bare feet running through the kitchen.

I made them all go to their rooms and put shoes on, while I mopped up the shattered mess.

Then, came the small, blond headed voice of reason - 

"It's ok Mommy, that's just one less dish to wash...."

Sigh.

He's right you know.

Why fret about losing Great Grandma's bowl?

I learned to be thankful for the willing little helpers I had.

I'm sure not every boy takes a shine to washing up.

I had plenty of reasons to shoo them out of the kitchen, but it kept them busy for awhile.

They even enjoyed the newest member of the family.

Little sister had someone to boss around.

Big brothers had another prospective player.

They were so proud of baby brother.

 

We have so, so, many bittersweet memories of living in that house.

I am also grateful for my husband and his camera bug.

I was usually busy living the moment, and would forget to capture it on film.

Now they are precious time capsules made of gold.

When I saw the picture of our little tykes washing dishes, 

I remembered where the saying came from, and I still use that phrase to this day.

"Well, that's just one less dish to wash."

Except, when our son died, I could hardly bring myself to wash any dishes at all.

I started using paper plates just so I didn't have to stand at the same sink that Nathanael would be found every evening.

It was still his job to do the dishes.

I couldn't bear to wash one less dish.

I spent many evenings bent over that sink just crying as the water grew cold, again.

It used to be our custom to clean house every Saturday.

That is the day of the week Nathanael died.

Now, I will do anything to avoid cleaning on that day.

So much changes after the loss of a child.

Even the mundane.

Nothing is ever the same.

We may have memories of our family's childhood like most parents.

But we have a little bit more.

I do carry his words in my heart though,

 because it really wasn't about the broken dish.

It is so much more.

Together we are rebuilding the broken.

 Stories found along our journey

by: Sue Leerhoff

Brick by Brick