It makes my husband crazy that I recycle. (Possibly related to the number of times he has tripped over empty milk jugs in the garage?) I think if it were not for me he would throw old mail and plastic containers in the garbage. You heard me right.
So I do not have the nerve to even mention to him that I love some of the pretty composting containers that are out there, and what would it be like if we recycled and composted.
See his eyebrows all in a V if I say that?
I was reading Frederick Buechner’s, Telling Secrets this week, and he says this:
We work and goof off, we love and dream, we have wonderful times and awful times, are cruelly hurt and hurt others cruelly, get mad and bored and scared stiff and ache with desire, do all such human things as these, and if our faith is not mainly just window dressing or a rabbit’s foot or fire insurance, it is because it grows out of precisely this kind of rich human compost.
Compost is the old stuff you could have thrown away.
Then, after a long time of piling up, it becomes something rich.
Can you imagine all those experiences you’re having as compost?
Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. (James 1:1-4)
Composters are optimistic.