Writing To Me Is Thankfulness

At one point of my life, I hated doing dishes. It was the bane of my existence. I prayed, asked the Lord, begged and cajoled, still hated it with all my heart.

My first daughter was six months old when we strolled the flea market in Knoxville, Tennessee. With little money, we strolled, window or table shopped, as it were.

I stopped before a small round wall plaque and this is what it said:

Thank God for dirty dishes

They have a tale to tell

They tell we don't go hungry

But are eating very well.

S...