Dear Pope Francis,
It’s not often people take the time to appreciate their ability to do manual labour, but that’s what I’m doing right now as I sit at my computer, typing and sipping ice water.
I spent most of today outside doing yard work with my mother – trimming back the branches of neighbouring trees resting on the garage roof, and then clearing out the leaves and gunk in the eaves trough. Pulling weeds and sweeping the drive and walk; picking up all the yard waste and bagging it. It was a gorgeous sunny day, but very hot when we were outside.
When we came in, we went through the bookshelves in the basement deciding what to keep and what to put out at the yard sale this weekend. There were old clothes to be sorted through and bagged to donate, and photos to take of things which might sell better online.
When the washing machine is free in ten minutes, I’ll be lugging laundry downstairs to wash and then back upstairs to fold and put away when it’s clean and dry.
Living in a house instead of the apartments I’ve been used to for the last few years is a lot more work. There’s more floors to sweep and surfaces to dust, and infinitely more dishes and things to tidy, but that’s more from living with more people than anything else.
When I was a teenager, I used to gripe about being asked to help with chores around the house. I loathed moving furniture, and wasn’t big on sorting through all the bits and bobs our family collects. It wasn’t work I liked doing.
Today, I’m appreciating that I’m young and strong and capable of doing all the things Mum and I did. I’m glad I can spend the day working outside and inside without being too horribly sore at the end of it. I’m glad I’m limber enough to be climbing up and down off the roof.
So many people have aches and pains from injury and age, or are born with physical disabilities and aren’t able to do these sweaty jobs. I’m lucky I can.
Having a Pollyanna day,