In just a few days Nancy and I leave for Dublin. I will be going straight from Greensboro and Nancy will go there via Washington DC, after the annual Fulbright Orientation. For two months this blog will be coming from the Emerald Isle and introduce people and places from Adelaide Presbyterian Church to the Aran Islands (a place I have wanted to visit for years). After that, God willing, it will come from the cycle road as a couple of us hit the trail from Barcelona to Brussels and, possibly, on to Berlin. Then a return to Albania and friends and ministry in Tirana and Erseke. It will be hard to be away from family (especially granddaughter) for four months, but it is a privilege to have an opportunity to experience and minister in so many places.



Before leaving Greensboro, though, I should share a few photos of cycling places right around our home. In Seattle cycling is wonderful: the Burke Gillman trail along the shores of Lake Washington, the ferry ride over to the Peninsula and the quiet roads there, the snow-capped peaks east and west and the beauty of the Sound. I knew I would miss these and sure enough, there is none of that here and I do miss it. But there is a beauty and tranquility about this place, and cycling is a wonderful way to experience it—and many people do just that. It is not uncommon to see individuals, groups or families cycling on the roads around our home. And just behind us is a long and beautiful cycle/jogging path through the woods, past ponds and a lake, and over roads. Every day I see more people wearing cycling clothes, or just recreational clothes, on their bikes going out for a ride, than I would see on an average day in Seattle.


From our front door there are various rides, all different and most with both historical sites along the way. So, this is a cycling city—and I am glad!...Now let’s see about Dublin next….

When we first moved to Greensboro I wondered what kind of a city it was. I soon learned that it was a city with a long history, one dating back to revolutionary days and before. It was a place of battle in the Revolutionary War, as I noted last week. It was a city with a history of the Civil War—there is a monument indicating the place where Jefferson Davis twice met with his cabinet. It was a city with a history of the Civil Rights movement—the Woolworth still stands where four young black men sat down at the counter and refused to leave until served, thus beginning the sit-in movement that changed the face of America in the ‘60s.
But I was curious about one phenomenon which seemed out of place—trash. As I drove along city streets I could not help noticing household furnishings piled along the way. Sofas, mattresses, microwaves, cabinets, doors, lamps—all sorts of used and abused furnishings were a common sight on the side of many of the streets. And the same was true in every neighborhood. I was curious.
Then I learned the rest of the story, a story that has interesting counterparts in every place we have lived. It is the story of trash and how it is dealt with. I was used to the custom in Seattle and became used to the custom in Albania—now it is Greensboro’s turn.



What I learned was this—that there are five clearly understood ways of getting rid of household waste, and that together they work very well. First there is the scavenger. That explained the furnishings by the side of the road. People put out things they do not want or need any longer, and anybody passing by is free to take it. And they do. Most of the things put out disappear within a day or two—the old adage one person’s trash is another person’s treasure.

Then there is the garbage truck. It comes around predictably every week and empties the bins that every person has and every person puts out on the street every week on the appointed day. Then there is the recycle truck, another truck that comes by weekly and empties the recycle bins that every person puts out on the appointed day. Then after that comes the yard waste truck. This truck picks up limbs and leaves and whatever that is left ou the side of the street by gardeners, pruners or whomever. Finally, after these have passed, comes the buck truck. This truck picks up anything and everything that is left. If a mattress has not been spoken for, it is thrown on the buck truck. If debris from a remodel has not been claimed, that goes into the buck truck. When I asked Roy, the fellow helping with some home changes for us, whether he would haul away the debris from our work, he looked at me somewhat strangely and told me about the buck truck. That is its forte—everything else…
So, I guess that the periodic trip to the dump is no longer part of my world, here in Greensboro. Here there is a different system, and it seems like a good one. Useable things are re-used, and the rest disappear. An elaborate system, with five different parts to it, and it works. What a deal!

And as I write this it has made me start thinking about two ways the theme of trash could be applied to our lives. The first is that each of us has something or things in our lives that we need to get rid of—I mean sins. There are things we keep hold of but need to get rid of. And I wonder what mechanisms or systems we have accessed that can help in the removal process… God has provided several ways of dealing with our failures and temptations, the things we ought to discard—but do we utilize them or do hold tightly to the things that ought to be left on the side of the street to be picked up.

The second is very different, it is the wonder of grace. That is grace that picks up the pieces of our broken lives and redeems them, and us. Grace means that God discards no one. All people, no matter how broken or used are invited into his presence and can be transformed by his grace. Maybe, following through with the thought, God is the scavenger…or maybe the buck truck—picking us up when no one else wants to… Who knows. Just a thought…