On Dumpster Diving

Our recycling pile has been extraordinarily high lately. Our bookshelf has been purged of most books with easy or irritating answers, and instead of donating them to our local thrift shop which seems overwhelmed with donations, I set them in boxes at the end of the driveway, hoping that someone would find them and help themselves. Maybe someone who could still be comforted by easy answers.

Sure enough, someone did come along. We didn't want to embarrass him by staring out the window, but we live a pretty moderate life and sometimes need to create drama and recreation out of the ordinary. So we hid behind the blinds.

He took his time going through the boxes. We imagined his excitement as he began a small mountain of reading materials beside him on the road. The kids made some snooty comments about people going into other people's garbage. I reminded them that we live in a culture that preaches reuse and recycle, so maybe we should embrace the idea of living it?

Meanwhile the book mountain grew. How would he carry it home; we wondered.
He crossed the street carefully, arms down laden with books on theology, and books with seven easy answers to any problem the Christian Ever Had. He deposited the stack at the door of the Mennonite Church. And he made his way across the parking lot cradling a single book.

The Art Of Sensual Massage.

(of course, that wasn't OUR book. Cough, snuffle, shuffle.... Somebody must have left it here.... How embarrassing.....)