Today a group of people volunteered to clean up
at a house. The house has not been lived in by
a family for 10 years. A single man has been there
for a year. He left a bed in one room that was
topped with a soft comforter. He said this was
the custom of his country for new people in
a home. Other people brought in items
for a pantry shower. The items on the kitchen
shelf warmed up the kitchen even though the
door hid their woth. Love and joy cannot
be measured.
Hard work is pure joy. I trimmed shrubbery
that made me think I was part of revealing
a secret garden. Red roses revealed a sweet
aroma. Their silky petals held on strong to the
vine despite the tap, tap, tap of the raindrops.
When the work day ended, my soul was cleansed.
If only everyone worked so hard. Their soul
would be clean. Their heart would be full.
Their hands would be strong. Is this what
health is about?
