When the Trashman is an Angel

In Soul by Melani Marx

When I first landed here – Montana – a little over two years ago I was coming out of being in bed for almost a month with pneumonia. I was also in the middle of an enormous three year inner process of deconstruction and only knew a couple folks in the area. 

As Winter deepened everything felt very outside of time. I felt isolated and had little contact with other humans. 

Every Wednesday in the frozen dark the refuse person would drive his truck down the alley that my bedroom is on. White lights. Red lights. Clamor and rattle at about five am. 

Every Wednesday I blessed him and his family thanked him for being out in the dark doing this vital service for our little town. 

His arrival was an anchor for me.

I knew what day it was. I felt connected to another human in that moment.

This was steadying. Comforting. Grounding as my inner world unwound in the cold, dark Winter. 

I relied on him and felt such gratitude to him in a way that I am sure would startle and astound him. 

Sometime during the second April I was in Montana this unwinding came to completion. My attachment to the refuse man’s arrival waned. 

I stepped back out into Life in a new way 

This morning as I sit in bed – two days from my final departure and an entirely new life in front of me in a land strange and different to me after all these years in the West – the refuse man came trundling down the alley just a few feet from my bed. 

The memories came flooding back. 

There is no way to measure the import we have on another human. What is “made” of our presence. 

Our effect on the world is often quiet and mysterious. 

I like to think the blessings and prayers of gratitude for the nameless man who picked up my trash in the frozen dark was truly a blessing for him in some small way. 

I will never know. 

I do know those blessings and prayers blessed me beyond measure. 

Happy Sunday y’all! 

May you be blessed in all that you are about today and may your heart and mind be open and receptive to all that is supporting and blessing you. Known and unknown. Seen and unseen.

And may you always remember…

EVERYTHING you do matters waaaaay more than you will ever know. 

As I am putting this together I am waiting for my son, Kaleb and Mr Georgia to arrive with the very large truck, my car on a trailer behind that they graciously drove all the way from Portland, OR to the Atlanta metro this week.

They are two of the kindest and best humans I know.

I am the most fortunate of women.

I cannot wait to see their faces again and hug them tight.

A few last words…. 

In order to have a miracle, a miraculous life – we absolutely must be ready for one. We must gently and kindly open and relax our clenched hands, our hearts and our minds so there is a place for one to land.  

We must die to who we are in this moment in order to be in a state of grace and openness for the miracle we are praying for to arrive in the next.

We must be ready and willing to let whatever ideas about the way things are, should be, could be or are not – simply fall away.

Let go.


In order to HAVE a miracle we must be willing to RECEIVE a miracle… and that means being radically open to one.

And honey, I am here to tell you – miracles NEVER show up the way we think they will. Never.