I am a Trashman's servant. Most of times I dream of going with Him to neighborhoods to collect trash. He has that smiling face for which you would give whole your life and that passion for his job that you would think that this is the best job in the entire world. If anyone puts their trash outside of their door I try to check them out before He does otherwise He won't let me have them. Some people would put their trash bags outside of their door or yard, but unfortunately some would prefer carry themselves. He would get sad by seeing how people were trying to drag those huge bags on the ground or carry on their backs. Often times when they drag, bags would tear off and small pieces of all kind of trash would fell off the holes and the nastiest smell would come out. The situation would look very embarracing. Then He runs to help to collect the trash from the ground, hoping that He can have the rest of the trash bag. We would get to see all kinds of neighborhoods. Some neighborhoods even though they look nice and pretty would make you feel empty, whereas other neighborhoods would give you a joy and peace even though they were poor and simple.
At the end of the day we pile trash to the same place close to neighborhood and then He takes them to the Hill where I am not allowed to to go. He carries them until the sunset.
One day I was curious to see what was going on the Hill. What I saw was the most heartbreaking scene I could ever imagine. He was sitting in the middle of the all opened trash bags and no matter what it was He was eating them piece by piece. He was swallowing them like a pelican swallows the fish. If He find big long nail, He would swallow that too. His mouth would bleed and his body would writhe from sharp pain. Then with tears in his eyes He would cty out saying: "Forgive them Father, because they know not what they do".
The next morning we were in a new neighborhood. Last night I could hardly get my sleep from being excited about every New Day. Eventhough He was very tired and exhausted beautiful smile on his bright face was irreplaceable. First of all He shakes my hand with his huge strong and confident hands and then He gives me a big hug like a cool ocean breeze flows through my body. While we are walking to places He tells me interesting stories about his Father. In return I would tell him my own childhood stories.
So we were picking up bags as usual. Some people would give their bags voluntarily, but some would give up at all. After walking several blocks something unusual has happened. When I was about to grab one of those bags, I saw his gentle hands taking it from me. I started holding it tighter and let Him know that I got it. But He was more persistent than I was. I should admit that I haven't seen Him in this peculiar way, like He was uncomfortable of something. After several moments of "battling" over the bag, it has gotten torn apart. Several familiar to me things fell off the bag. I felt like my private suitcase opened and rolled down in the middle of the JFK airport. I was very emarrased but He was embarrace more than I was. After standing and looking at each other in a silence, He wispered to me: "I got it".
