On many Wednesday mornings, I am involved in an odd relationship with another man.

Got your attention? I am guessing I got Lisa's attention.

Wednesday is trash day at our house and, unless Lisa beats me to it, I am hauling our trash and things out to the curb about the same time that Mr. Noname (in other words, I haven't a clue what his name is) drives by in his blue truck. Mr. Noname is what I call a "scrapper". He knows the trash pick-up routes in town and, before the trash trucks arrive, he drives the route looking for scrap metals that can be recycled as well as for other odds and ends that, perhaps with a little cleaning, fixing, or painting, could be sold and re-used by someone.

I have never met Mr. Noname. In fact, I usually try to stay in the garage until he passes by our house and perhaps even picks up a thing or two.

I think about Mr. Noname a lot though. I guess our relationship goes beyond just wednesday mornings.

Whenever we have scrap metal or some item to put out at the curb that I know, with a little time, effort and talent, could be turned into money or something useful, I think of him. And I hope he will come by our house that week to retrieve what we're setting out.

I thank God for the scrappers of this world ... in the case of Mr. Noname, they are doing more on a practical and personal level to protect and preserve the environment than I am. I don't know how he'd feel if I approached him some Wednesday morning. I guess if I did it with a smile and true appreciation for what he does, he would receive it well.

There's another type of scrapper, too. And those are the ones who look for lost souls ... those cast away by society ... and try to provide them hope, encouragement, love, compassion. Man, I know so many great scrappers of that type and I admire them just as much as I admire and appreciate Mr. Noname.

God bless the scrappers. I love 'em! May I, through the journey of my life, learn to be one too.