"How are you today, ma'am?" I asked her, and she smiled up at me as only a graying, seventy-year-old lady can. "Just fine," came her reply, and so I started scanning her groceries. She only had a few, and I knew it wouldn't take me more than a minute. Then she would be gone, like all the others who had come before her.

Working outside a little church one sweltering afternoon in June was a middle-aged man and three children. The oldest, a girl about twelve, worked steadily. But the younger two-boys who looked like twins but were not-paused in their work periodically to either squabble or complain about the heat.

Dear God and Mary and every Saint,
Feel my forehead…am I going to faint?
Do the dishes, empty the sink,
What does one do when they can hardly think?
Annoying and gross, yes, that is true,
But I try and I do it all for You.
It may be dirty, it may be rough,
But I’ll do it anyway, to show You my love.

Vacuum the rug, scrub the floor,
Do I have to do any more…?