Dirty Dishes

As kids, my siblings and I took turns doing the supper dishes. One night it was my sister and I and the next night, my two brothers. Of course, we would sometimes get into big fights over it--like who left the nasty dried-on pot hidden in the oven?

Years later, the same thing would happen with my own four kids. When I came across this poem, I put up a copy by the kitchen sink. (It didn't really help.)

Thank God for dirty dishes,
For they have a tale to tell.
While other folks go hungry,
We're eating very well.

With home and health and happiness,
We shouldn't want to fuss,
For by this stack of evidence,
God's been very good to us.