We were never one of those families with a system of chores embedded in our routine. Things largely fell to me, which says more about my administrative skills than my children's capacity to comply. 

 

A family of nine kids generated a river of dishes, with little chance for a reprieve between meals. But somehow we muddled through. People complained that the plates were not very clean, but my Little Red Hen stance was that I refused to add rinsing to a job I shouldered alone. 

 

Recently, a cooperative spirit has emerged. Without anyone talking about it, one of us puts water in bowls, and stacks them by the sink. Silverware soaks in a pan, and he or she walks away. Sometime later, I slide the dishes into the dishwasher, which can easily finish the process. Another someone wanders by mid-afternoon and empties the racks, and when Ben notices, he sorts the spoons and forks because he likes them better that way. 

 

Then it all starts over. 

 

I am surprised at the simplicity of the solution, as well as the autonomy of each person stepping up to help. Plus, it is pleasant to drink from clean glassware. 

 

It reminds me of the process of shunning evil, if you can believe that. 

 

First, I notice that I was a bit snarky to someone. Then I let that behavior soak a while in an idea like The Golden Rule. My attitude softens somewhat, and the edge falls off. Another opportunity to speak kindly shows up, and I reach for cleaner words. I privately sort out the cluttered feelings. Then it all starts over with a different person. 

 

It calms me to realize that I do not have to do it alone. Though I have never actually called God a dishwasher, He kind of is one.