Throw away?

(06.24.21– A Faith That Feels!--Matthew 5:32)

My friend, may I ask you a question? Has our ability to be intimate with one another, to be able to touch, hold and come near others, also been impacted by our throw-away society?

My friend, Life’s a story, welcome to This Passing Day.

I'm M. Clifford Brunner.

I'm the one in our family who bears the chief responsibility of checking the trash baskets around the house and emptying them on a regular basis. Sometimes it seems that no sooner than I empty one and it is filled to the brim again. The one that fills the quickest is the kitchen trash basket. Since this is the room in the house where most of the living really happens, where there's living, there's trash. It's pretty much an everyday task keeping that trash basket empty.

This morning as I open the cabinet drawer to throw out a butter wrapper, I was confronted with a mountain of trash, overflowing the very top of the basket. Someone had thrown away a gallon milk jug that had taken up nearly half of the basket's volume. As I pulled the jug from out, I thought to myself: "It wasn't that long ago when these things were glass and the milkman picked them up on the back porch." Setting the jug aside, I marveled how complacent we had become about the things we use everyday. We toss them aside and move on. The milk jug I remember as a youth was something of value; something retained for another day. So few things are any more. So much is taken for granted.

Here's a story: A couple was driving home from a lovely evening out to celebrate their twenty-fifth anniversary. She was sitting way over there and he was sitting right here behind the steering wheel. She said, with a little bit of ache, "Honey, remember when we used to sit really close together in the car?" And without hesitation, he replied, "Well, honey, I never moved. I've been right here all this time." (Leslie Flynn, Humorous Incidents and Quips)

Our ability to be intimate with one another, has also been impacted by our throw-away society. There was a time when touch and closeness were highly valued, nurtured and set aside for special care. But, like those plastic mi