Headwaters Wordsmithing

Writing for the actor, singer, and reader.

Birthed in the Northwoods of Wisconsin,  Headwaters Wordsmithing creates screenplays, lyrics, and books with an emphasis on faith in God...and a minor emphasis on coffee.  Make yourself at home.

Joy in the Bubbles...

Dirty dishes.  I know, I know.  I should be thankful for dirty dishes.  It means there was something to eat and perhaps a meal shared with laughter, witty banter, and taste-bud-tinglings.

But the meal is now reduced to a sinkful of dirty dishes.  And The Little-House-On-The-Corner doesn't have a dishwasher.   Well, technically we do.  But I'm letting him sleep in.  TechnoBoy has lawnmowing and roof work on today's agenda.  Of course he doesn't know that.  Yet.  It'll be a "Good-Morning!" surprise in about, oh,  32 minutes.

Right now, it's me and the dishes.

I flip on the hot water and reach behind a cabinet door for the Joy dish soap.  I squirt a big dose of the yellow stuff into the sink.  I pause briefly which allows time for Epiphany #1 to take place. 

I shut off the water, put the stopper in the sink, and turn the water back on.  And, out of necessity, once again add another healthy squirt of yellow which, this time, begins to bubble.

I watch the tiny cloud form before succumbing to the siren call of the Elixir of Knowledge.  I quickly feed  the coffee-maker some coffee grounds and water.  I pause, hovering over the magical button that brews the "Beverage of beverages", imagining the aroma soon to waft through The Little House.  I push the button and turn back to the sink.

A huge towering cloud of bubbles is climbing out of the sink.

I attempt to herd the cloud back into the sink, using my arms like that the picture of Jesus carrying the lamb.  (You know - the one on the bookmark you got way back when at VBS ?  Yeah.  That one.)

Suds slide over my arms on its way to the microwave.  It's like trying to hold an entire litter of kittens.

Then it happens.  Epiphany #2.

I shut off the water.

The cloud stops moving.  I fight the urge to mimic Moses and pitch a tent until it moves again.  Instead I lift a stack of dirty dishes and slowly lower them into the cloud.  And that's when my hands exercise the doctrine of total immersion - into hot scalding water.

The ensuing freefall of place settings and muffled crash is caused by my hands jerking up and out, flinging suds onto cabinets, ceiling, and, of course, the microwave.  My exclamation is almost shouted...and it is not "hallelujah".  No.  Nothing of worship-song quality..

I glance around, my throbbing hands held up to my chest as if I'm begging for a doggie treat.  The Wife and TechnoBoy sleep through the crash and the exclamation.  I'm still a solitary, scalded man.

I gingerly wipe angry-red hands on a dishtowel before pouring a cup of the Elixir.   I stagger out to The Chair in the Living Room part of the "Dining/Living/Family/Computer Room".  (If the TV is on, the Living Room becomes the Family Room...and if the laptop is open on the Dining Room table it becomes the...well, you get it...)

I sit, alternately blowing on the Elixir and my hands.  As hyperventilation sets in, random thoughts begin to spark and ricochet.  My fingers are now responding to commands so I tap on the nearby smartphone, a present from the DAGU and SIL - (Daughter All Grown Up & Son-In-Law).  As its name and the circumstances suggest, I probably shouldn't be using one.

My fingers eventually manage to google ""bubbles" in the Bible".  Up pops Proverbs 18:4 from a translation called "The Voice".  It tells me that "words bubble up from waters deep within a person."


I look at hands which have gone from the DefCon 3 of lobster-red to the DefCon 2 of raw salmon.

I sigh in disgust.

My deep water words obviously bubbled up through a hot sulphur spring.  And the words didn't bubble.  They spewed.

I sag back into The Chair, rather disappointed with myself.  A sip of the Elixir floats up another verse. 

"Don't be worried.  The joy of the Lord is your strength..."

Well then.  Okay.

Enter Epiphany #3.

My mind sees a huge yellow bottle sitting on the edge of Heaven.  The JOY of the Lord....

A loud angelic chorus suddenly sings that particular chord, the one in the commercials when something "heavenly" happens.  The massive bottle of JOY tips slowly - majestically - over,  releasing a long sparkling squirt that falls...right into my life.

Ohhhh.  So that's -

He provides the JOY which causes those daily agitations of life to produce "bubbles" - a heavenly reaction that keeps the dirt, debris, and the crud of life from sticking to me.

Leaving me clean and smelling like...well...JOY.

The JOY of the Lord.  It changes "grungy & nasty" into "clean & fresh".  And that's the kind of change that folks notice. 

Especially folks with their own crud, that stuff that seems forever baked-on and just won't come off.  No matter what they try.

Huh.  So I could share the JOY... but ONLY if I let Him pour it into my life.  It's the only way to get those powerful cleaning bubbles.

On my own I make a sulphur-smelling froth that doesn't clean at all.  Nothing special there.  Nothing extraordinary.

A swig of the Elixir reminds me of there's a sinkful of dirty dishes lurking around the corner.

I stare at my hands, now a stinging shade of "I-can't-believe-I-did-that" pink.  The thought of putting them in hot water makes me shudder.

Epiphany #4 makes its entrance.

Yeah.  That'll work.

I gonna give a whole sinkful of Joy to TechnoBoy.

In about 28 minutes.

All content copyrighted by Dennis R. Doud. Website designed by Isaac Doud.