Happy from the day, I smile and swing open the tarry door of the workshop. My lungs fill with the sweet scent of a winter pine that gracefully lies end to end across the long hall. Volunteers of the best sorts happily chip, chop, split away, the unwanted extra wood to form the scarf. It is a sight not only seen, but felt. I have been there before. The one who happily, lovingly, labors, day by day, week by week, month by month, without, no, free, from monetary gain. It is a beautiful life to live, and I see it here in this place, in these people.
No comments:
Post a Comment