Thursday, August 30, 2007
I only like bananas at a certain level of ripeness. If they're starting to speckle, I don't want them. These two bananas started to speckle last Friday.
I knew they were going bad. I'd glance at them as I walked through the kitchen multiple times a day; see them hanging on my white plastic banana tree. "I need to throw those out," I'd tell myself.
But I was in a hurry. Too busy with work and life to take care of a matter so small as spotted bananas.
This morning when I entered my kitchen, I walked smack dab into the middle of a swarm of fruit flies. (You knew this was coming, didn't you?)
The flies were everywhere. And the bananas had leaked a very dark brown sticky goo all over my counter. It had run under the telephone and behind a few knick-knacks I keep there. Ugh.
When the rotting bananas began to interfere with the rest of my life, I finally took action. But by then, it wasn't an easy clean-up. It wasn't just a matter of tossing them in the trash. There were flies. And goo. Did I say the goo was sticky? Like molasses! It took 10 minutes of scrubbing to get the goo up, and then I had to hit it with the Soft Scrub (with bleach) to get rid of the brown stain. The stain is still not quite gone. You can see it if you know where to look.
How many times in our lives do we let the bananas go bad, brushing aside those little nagging thoughts—to do something, change something, help someone—until it escalates to a crisis? Sometimes we get lucky and can make the mess and the stain disappear with determination and elbow grease. Sometimes, by the time we finally notice, it's too late to make it all better and we're stuck with permanent reminders of our failure to pay attention.
So I ask myself--and you, too--what are my personal, spiritual and emotional "bananas"? Am I ready to pay attention? Or am I going to wait, again, until the fruit flies gather?
Now Playing on my iPod: I Know That My Redeemer Lives