You may have read my post back in July where I was cleaning out.  I ended up with an entire pail full of rotten produce that came out of my fridge.  I even posted a picture.

Not a pretty sight.

I posted the picture on Facebook too.  That stimulated a great discussion about overbuying, thinking we were going to cook more than we actually did,   One friend said,

I looked at the picture before reading what you had to say, and the first thing that came to my mind was, ‘I usually like what she makes, but this does not look tasty!’

Several people suggested that I compost the garbage.  And you know what?  That’s exactly what I did.

I’ve had a compost pile for a number of years now.  Nothing fancy or scientific.  I just dump kitchen scraps, leaves, grass, and some weeds onto the pile at the edge of the woods.  The organic matter and elements do their thing.  And, when I need some dirt, I start digging.

Now as I’ve been reclaiming my garden, I decided to see how much dirt I have back in that pile.  And you know what?  That garbage had already been converted to dark, rich soil.  I dug some up for use in my garden.  Here’s a picture of some of it in the wheelbarrow.

(c) Kathleen Thompson

Seeing all that garbage piled up in one bucket was upsetting, to say the least.  How much money and food I had wasted when others go hungry.  Realizing how I’d let my calendar get out of control so I didn’t make time to use what I had.  You know what I mean.  Plenty of people said they’ve done something similar (though not quite as much, perhaps).

Here it was a short time later, and the mess I made had been transformed into something usable.  My failure had been redeemed.

Not undone.  Not fixed.  But redeemed.  Something good came from something bad.

We have to live with the consequences of our decisions.  Things don’t just magically fix themselves because we feel bad, apologize, or turn from what we’ve done.  We also have to live with consequences of things that happen to us.  Things beyond our control.  Like illness. Death. Violence.

But, just like my pile of garbage turning into rich compost, everything in our life can ultimately be redeemed.  Everything.

Like my husband’s sudden death.  My friend’s cancer.  Another friend’s layoff.

It usually doesn’t happen as quickly as my garbage turned to compost.  And it won’t happen if we don’t set the intention, and create the environment for it to occur.

I had to add my garbage to the pile that was already there.  In a place that gets some light and heat, and has plenty of organic matter already cooking away.

When things happen in my life, I have to ask questions like:

• What can I learn from this situation?
• What does God’s love look like in this situation?
• What does this make possible?

Not easy questions.  Sometimes painful questions.  Sometimes I am so angry that I answer them with “Nothing.  I don’t see any love.  And I can’t imagine anything good coming from this.”  Then I sit quietly and meditate.  Let myself feel what I feel.  Know it’s normal and even okay to feel anger, anguish, or whatever it is.

When I ask those questions later, I can see that the composting process has already begun.  Redemption is underway.  And I get to participate in its unfolding.

Is it easy?  No.  Is it fun?  No.  With compost, there’s weight, heat, and a fundamental changing of the matter from an orange carrot or white cauliflower to brown dirt.  Changing our mind and heart is no less radical or painful.  No.  It’s not fun.

People have asked me if I’d gladly go through the grief of my husband’s sudden death again, after seeing how much I’ve grown as the result of that tragedy.

No.  I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.  I certainly wouldn’t choose to live it again.  And I also appreciate the growth, resilience, and empathy that developed in me as a result of Jerry’s death.  One of the most horrible circumstances of my life has been redeemed.  God has worked in the soil of my heart and mind to make compost out of one of the worst piles of garbage I’ve ever seen.

That compost isn’t just sitting in a pile either.  It’s been put into use, helping others’ gardens to grow.  A kind word.  Sitting with a friend through their own grief.  Reminding people to make every minute count, because we can’t count on the next one.  That’s what happens when you let the garbage of your life be turned to compost.

If you’re sitting right now with garbage in your life, don’t keep it hidden in the fridge.  Don’t bury it.  Don’t put it in a bucket and ignore it.  Put it on the compost pile, give it a turn, and let it turn into rich dirt that can enhance your life and the lives of others.

Everything is redeemable.  Even the worst garbage.

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