Re-learning Recycling

I only lived in Bellingham, Washington, for four months.

Granola City, I called it.

Ex-hippies, new hippies, bicycle riding, organic-focused, fair-trading, local-minded, environmentalists with a mission: to be a green city of green people.

Bellingham: The City of Subdued Excitement, as it is named by its people and by the city mural painted on the side of a historic building downtown. It's true– the excitement of the city is subdued, but the personality of the city is strong and unmistakable.

The house I stayed in on Williams Street with my host family, the Gauthiers, was just a ten-minute bike ride from downtown. It was renovated using recycled materials, most things from the Re-Store. The Gauthiers had gardens in the back yard where they grew most of the vegetables used for daily cooking, and we received a weekly delivery of local, organic fruits and vegetables to supplement what we couldn't grow ourselves. There was also a chicken coop at the house with eight pet hens that provided fresh eggs every morning for my breakfast.

The Gauthiers rode their bikes whenever they could– not just for exercise but to be as "green" as possible. They camped and hiked as many weekends as they could, enjoying the great outdoors that is Washington. After my first camping trip with them, which was culture shock to this city girl, I began to realize that I could get by with less– less stuff, less electricity, less people, less buildings, less unnecessary baggage.

On Sundays, we went to a church called Mosaic, a group of real Christians sans the bulletins, the hymns, the "Sunday best" and everything that goes with a 10:30 a.m. service. Less structure, more freedom, and a lot of genuine love for the community and each other. Refreshing. Sunday mornings, when we did actually meet in a building, we had community breakfast, everyone bringing a dish. And before we began to sing and worship, we sat about six to eight people at a round table enjoying breakfast together. These tables in the middle of a rented room were our church pews. I always found it funny, but inspiring, that the Gauthiers brought their own plates, silverware, and cups to church so that they could wash and resuse them, not wasting anything. No unnecessary trash.

Leftovers rarely get thrown away. Everything possible was recycled. This was life in Bellingham.

If I learned anything, it was something about recycling.

Life throws a lot our way. We take it in, process it, and we decide that some things are worth getting rid of. Divorce, death, hurt, loss, disappointment– they are by-products of life, and they are things we want to throw in the trash can. In my own life, I found that the landfill in my heart was filling up quickly, and if I didn't address the problem soon, the trash was going to overflow into less hidden places.

For several months I questioned God. I felt sorry for myself, and I pointed my finger, demanding answers. (I didn't get any.)

I had to learn to be alone, and in a lot of ways, I had to learn to let people back in. For the most part, my energy was spent trying to "figure things out" while I was living with the Gauthiers in Bellingham. I moved in with them only days after my parents signed divorce papers and only two and half months after my friend Katie was killed in a tragic accident. I was 2,500 miles away trying to throw of all my unanswered questions and hurt away.

I learned to recycle.

Reduce the garbage to begin with. To be fair, reduction is the hardest part. I don't have total control of what happens in life. But, we can learn to navigate through our lives as best we can, re-routing when possible, or at least bracing for impact.

Reuse the energy. Now I write. I'm trying to use the energy and emotions for something good, something positive. I'm taking my emotional plates to church with me so that I can wash and reuse them. I can't keep throwing things away. I'm being more conscious of what I invest in so that maybe there will be less sitting on the curb at the end of the day.

Maybe I can invest in things that will decorate my home after they're used up. Jars on the shelf holding fresh flowers. We've all got hurt places that we wish could be restored.

Its a conscious effort. It's easy to throw things away. It's hard to recycle. But it's good, and it works.

Granola City Recycling: Reducing the emotional landfill one plastic knife at a time.