We Should Hate Poop

I hate poop. I really do. Dirty diapers, unflushed toilets, any form really makes me cringe! Since moving to Japan I’ve had to pick up a lot of poop. Happy can no longer come and go as he pleases out a doggy door into the glories of a big back yard where he can run, chase ground hogs and squirrels, and poop freely. He now must be put on a leash with a plastic poop bag attached to it, walked down apartment stairs, and taken to a dog park or led around town to go to the bathroom. That means I always have to pick up poop. Sigh. I really hate it.

Yesterday, I decided to take him around town. As we started our walk, I felt pretty confident that he wouldn’t need the blue plastic bag around the handle as he had just pooped a couple hours before. (Stay with me, I promise this story has a point.) There is an elevated express way that follows the local road near our housing area and it graciously throws shade on the sidewalk in late afternoon when the heat is just beginning to lesson. This is where we commenced our walk. Happy happily wanders from side to side on the brick sidewalk smelling each blade of grass and marking them with an obnoxious drop. About ¾ of a mile into our walk he found tall grass. Happy LOVES to poop in tall grass, and so he did. Blast. I looked around and saw enough people nearby that I couldn’t get away with simply leaving it.

I untied the bag and hunted for the steam pile, grabbing as much as I could from the grass that refused to release its grip cleanly and tied the pungent bag. Now I had to carry the poop for the rest of the walk. Why you ask? Because Japan has no public trash cans, ANYWHERE. None. Everyone is expected to keep their own trash until they get home. The only exception is the recyclable bins with can sized holes next to the billion vending machines strewn about. But conscience wouldn’t allow me to put the steaming bag in one of those. We kept walking. With each whiff of the overpowering bag, I thought about how much I hate poop. I also was embarrassed that everyone could see/smell me carrying the poop. I carried it down by the train station, past the laundromat, and the Ramen place we want to try. We passed kids heading home in their uniforms, elderly shuffling down the street, and we walked the Ginza which is a covered mall area whose open store doors leaked AC that gave us a reprieve from the stifling heat. The full blue bag continued to sway from my hand. There’s no way to look cool carrying poo.

As we passed the hospital and the fire station just before entering back into housing, I kept asking myself why carrying this poo bothered me so much. It made me think about how feces are simply all the waste from the food that bodies can’t use. Bodies take out everything they need and discard the rest. It also can indicate to a doctor or vet what was eaten, if a person or animal is sick, or if the digestive system is working or not. I also thought about how there will be no poop in heaven because our bodies will digest food perfectly there. At least that’s my theory. Then I realized, sin is like this poop I was carrying! God created us perfect but when Adam sin, we fell with him. Now we carry our stinky sin with us wherever we go. We can’t get rid of it and everyone can see and smell it! It shows what our eyes, mouth, hands, mind, and ears take in or eat. It shows our sick heart and that our souls are broken. We can’t just dump it anywhere, there’s only one place to lay it down. At the cross.

My last bit of shame was that I had to stop and show the gate guard my ID. I clumsily tried to hide the bulging bag beside me in the hand that also held Happy’s leash to attempt to block the stench from the kind guard as Happy flew in. I don’t think it worked. When I finally tossed the burdensome bag where it belonged, I felt free! I honestly did! The shame and stink went away! Isn’t that what happens when we drop our sin at the feet of Jesus? Putting my faith in Jesus took away my bag of sin forever! My ID now opens the gates of heaven forever! I still hate poop, I guess we all should.