Forks!

       So, for whatever reason, there is a fork near our school, it's about halfway between the school and the bike shed, and almost every day I go by this fork. It is a markedly bizzare place to find a piece of cutlery. I would wager it was secretly stolen from the cafeteria. But anyway, I saw this fork for the zillionth time today, and something inside me seemed to pity the poor thing. This is a post about how we are kind of like this fork. Or at least how I percieved this. 
        Now, I see this fork every morning and afternoon. But it moves, and since the wind isn't really strong enough to lift a piece of metal like that, I would assume it spends its day being kicked around. Across the gravel, every morning and evening, getting kicked and scratched. Today was a rainy day, and the ground was loose and muddy, so today the fork was covered in dirt and mud. I noticed this fork, and something within me seemed to feel for this fork. It's nothing like me, it's small and looked about as useless as a wet match, but something in me wanted to care for this fork. So I just kind of went with the flow, and picked it up. The first thing was to clean the mud off this fork. It was covered in mud. I took off one of my gloves, and this reminded me of the intimacy God shows with us. He wants to be close to us and relate to us on a personal level, to wipe us clean with his own hands.
       So I'm wiping the filth off this fork, and my hands are getting filthy. there's mud all over them. I have taken this fork's dirtiness upon myself. But, I can wipe it off and make myself clean. This fork has no such capability, it could never clean itself. And as it started to become clean, I noticed all these words on it, things that told me who made it, what qualities, it possessed. It said: "Stainless steel". This was a fork that could be cleaned and made as good as new. Anyway, the question is now coming, how am I going to take this home? I decided to put it close to me, in my pocket. It might risk messing up the other stuff in my pocket, but I didn't really care. So once I got home, I wanted to cleanse it more thoroughly. I noticed the hardest parts to get clean were the parts where it had been scratched. The mud ran deep into these gouges, and I really understood that, because I think it's hard to allow ourselves to be made clean when the problem is deep inside a would we have been dealt. 

    And that's how I think we are like forks. The fork is now upstairs on my bookshelf next to 5 stones and an acorn, other representations of lessons I have learned. I like this fork.