this morning as i sit to write, my body aches from lifting many, many boxes and moving many, many pieces of furniture. i have bruises and cuts on my legs, arms, and torso. around me in the kitchen bowls and dishes are piled on the counter tops. but slowly, things are being put in their proper places. the stacks of boxes in the garage are getting smaller. two of the three cats have adjusted well to their new home and are now residing on the back deck instead of in the garage--we're not certain when the last cat will make the transition. the three bedrooms are in good order, and we can sit in the den without boxes surrounding us.
it's amazing how things are beginning to shape up. for a while, we were overwhelmed by the enormity of the task of unpacking thirty years worth of accumulated precious things, but, as we've bitten off little pieces each day, the end of what seemed impossible is now in sight. we can even begin to think of getting outside and working to bring the overgrown shrubbery back under control and ridding the beds of the vines and other weeds that have begun to take over.
life is full of seemingly impossible goals that can only be accomplished by hacking away at the work to realize them steadily, a bit at a time. we can't make world hunger disappear but we can help feed a few of the hungry in our own communities. we can't eliminate poverty everywhere all at once, but we can contribute to organizations that are enabling poor families to support themselves. we can't house all the displaced people in the world, but we can promote efforts to open our country, state, and town to refugees of war, famine, and persecution. if each of us does a little, a lot will be accomplished. we must not give up because the needs are so great.
may we do our part each day to make life better for others. may we not be so absorbed in our own lives that we forget that others are suffering just as we are. in loving ourselves, may we also share love with others. shalom.