This is my scrubbie, the one that I use every week when I take a shower…he, he. Its old, gets used a lot, has fell apart and been fixed a couple times – its a good scrubbie.

The scrubbie, by it self I guess doesn’t really have a story – its just a scrubbie. But, tonight for some odd reason I looked down at that scrubbie and was hit with the amazing depth of what that scrubbie represents in our family.

The truth is we all use that scrubbie, we actually have 4 bathrooms with 1 bathtub/shower and 2 other showers in our house, but we all 4 for some reason use the same one. And in the smallest shower in the house sits the scrubbie and is used by all four/five of us every day.

So, to look at that scrubbie and see that it represents a togetherness in this season of our family – and it really, gave me that cheesy warm tingly feeling. Im pretty sure it wont always be that way, and it definetly was not always this way.

I was a Ivory soap and washcloth guy – not even a shampoo guy. Put the soap on the cloth and washed. Sometime in the infancy of our mairriage – I ran out of Ivory bar soap, or no washcloth, something. Betsy told me to use the scrubbie. I distinctly remember looking at it and wondering what to do with it. I remember thinking – what a girly thing, a scrubbie. So I used it reluctantly. Sometime later some Male body wash showed up in our shower. I remember thinking “no, I am not using body wash, that is for dudes who put gel in thier hair and wear cologne.” So I used it. I remeber there was a point sometime that I figured I needed to go back to “my way” and bought some Ivory soap, but that faded. So now and untill my wife dicides on something else….the scrubbie.

The other side of this is Betsy’s – of course this is my version so it may be a little skewed. After she had convinced me to use the scrubbie a couple of times a new Blue one showed up in the shower, it was explained to me it was MY scrubbie and to please not use hers. Funny. Over time the kids all had thier own scrubbies too. Funny. Eventually I put two and two together and realized this was the same woman that if I used her toothbruch once, it was mine. If her 2 year old son took a drink out of her water, it was his. And if I got my funk all over her scrubbie, it was mine. But now their is only one……the scrubbie.

I guess this isn’t really going anywhere and may seem like rambling. But to look down in the shower at that one scrubbie, in that tiny shower, and to realize that to give a litte, to meet half way, to give up what your used to – and comfortable with, is what make relationships work. These are the same kind of insane things that some people fight over. So when I look at the history, togetherness, and concession signified with that srubbie,

I feel very blessed.