day 3

yellow.

i dreaded doing anything with that pot in the sink. the heaviest yellow le creuset pot in our household bottom burned brown with chili.  burned because of neglect and pure forgetfulness. i forgot to stir. at some point the soaking has to stop and the pot must actually be washed. with a sigh i started the scrubbing and the phone rang. perhaps a dear friends voice would make the task seem less strenuous. and it did. i asked her about counseling. shes been lost for a while now, walking in shadows wondering if how she felt was normal. for too many years she was neglected and forgotten. when that happens, walls grow above and beneath you, burying you in a silent death.  unseen and suffocating. and in her voice i heard something that made me stop. i turned the water off and tears filled my eyes. i heard the whisperings of hope. and i could hardly speak because you become breathless when you realize that Jesus is answering your prayers and bringing back life to what was once dead. stirring hope into the soul of one so unseen.

i pour out the murky brown water from my yellow pot. yellow. the color of friendship. the color of the bug she drove in our college years. and if hope had a color i think it should be yellow because it is bright and cheerful and screams, "be alive." i refill my pot with clean water, drizzle it with soap, and rinse again.