It was a hot, summer's day and I had just finished getting my fingernails done. My 45 min. time with my nail-tec had ended and I was heading home. I drove up to see that my wonderful husband was in the midst of mowing the lawn. I pulled in, anticipating the showing of the nails, which I know he could care less about but he appeases me anyway. But before the viewing, he asks me to move one of the trash bins away from the back of our other car. (Here I want to say that after this episode, I greatly missed the small, tin cans we all used to have, easier to move in my case.) I gladly grab the trash bin, for they are not terribly difficult to maneuver. The lid was open because the man of the lawn was putting the grass clippings in there. I did not consider closing the lid, for there was no fear in moving a trash bin. Amen.
I came around to the back of the bin, grabbed the handles and gave it a push. It needed a bit more than a push because it was sitting in a rather large divot in our driveway. I proceeded to lift my right foot, place it on the bin, and give it a shove, ever so gently. So at this point, imagine me...hands on handles (mind the nails), left foot on driveway, right foot lifted up on the bin...remember the lid was open, so my foot was resting within the lid. A little shove, bin lowers, so I can push, lid flattened onto the driveway, right foot is still planted on it.
When you have a part of your body on the bin and you are trying to push the rest of the bin at the same time I'm sure there is some law of science of which you cannot break. You now find yourself working against yourself: bin stays in one place and the momentum of the push then hurls your body directly into the bottom of the bin.
I fit nicely inside one of our green Edmond trash bins.
Just as I had lunged myself into the bin, my husband came around the corner. Here's what he sees. The bin parallel with the ground, lid open and my feet sticking out. He sees me slowly back out, covered in grass and immediately I check my nails. After he makes sure I'm OK, we laugh until our sides hurt. Of course, I had to go call my mom because my family loves anything that involves someone falling down, or even falling in. My nails were not damaged so all was well.
How does this point to the grace of Christ? It's corny, but it will do...
if you want the "trash" of life out of your life, let Christ
close the lid on it so you won't hurl yourself back in.
Hope you had a good laugh, enjoy your week.