You in your small corner, and I in mine

When we first started signing up for SOWER projects, we would wait for others to sign up first to avoid the 'dreaded' job of GL (group leader).  Sometimes no one signs up, however, so the two of you find yourselves on a project all alone.
I used to pity those who were in this position. They must be so lonely, I thought.  Isn't one of the points of working for SOWERs to have fellowship with others?  What on earth do they do for three weeks in a remote place?  
Now we find ourselves in a remote place.  We did our duty; we signed up for a place not many go to.  It has been a different project, but the first two weeks have already flown by. There's not much fellowship, nothing to do in this tiny village, nothing much on TV.  I've been surprisingly content, though, reading, working on my writing, even a bit of sewing.

By a babbling brook

It's as if we caught the hosts by surprise, as they scrambled to find something meaningful we could do for them.  Terry managed to be busy to some extent, if you call tending a fire, busy.

This is fellow-shipping, too

After two days of throwing branches into the fire, I said to the secretary,  "I can help you with filing in the office."  She seemed pleased.
The next day I was given a 'small task', which led to days and days of filing.  And I'm still not done.

Today, on our day off, we were driving again, to bird watch, of course.  Early morning fog hung low on the mountains, as we left the canyon, and headed to some marsh two hours away.
"Sing the SOWER song with me", I said to hubby.  I sang a solo.
"It's not a work day, " he defended himself.
"But we have to catch up!" I explained.
That reminded me of singing with my dad in the car when I was four years old as he drove me to preschool. This is one of the songs we sang:

Jesus bids us shine, with a pure, clear light.
Like a little candle, burning in the night.
In this world of darkness, so we must shine...

My dad didn't know this song at first, because he was from a different country, but he liked it, and sang enthusiastically with me.
I never dreamed, at the age of four, that I was being a light to my dad, even though I didn't really know the meaning of the sentences.

Just then the sun broke through the fog in a bright shaft of light. I connected the dots. We were shining in our small corner at the school in the canyon. How thrilled the office staff was when they saw how Terry had tidied and organized one of their little rooms that had become a resting place for all sorts of objects.  They couldn't get over how much better the room looked, and thanked him over and over.

You in your small corner, and I in mine.

Bonus: a picnic outside the car 

As White as Snow

Doing laundry is my favourite household chore. I love the concept of soiled things becoming clean, and seeing the white underwear and socks in neat piles in my drawers. When we were raising our children, I loved to hang my diapers on the clothesline to wave in the fresh spring breeze. When they were dry, each one needed to be folded as well. The clean load would sit on the couch until I had a few moments to fold each diaper into a kite shape.

San Sebastian, Spain, May 2018

My mother taught me to separate clothes into white and coloured before doing laundry. I've kept up this practice for over fifty years. It was important not to get a red sock into a white load, especially if the load was washed in hot water. That happened to me once.

“How do you get your clothes so clean?” asked a friend one day. I realized it was by using good quality laundry soap, and giving the knees of jeans an extra scrub when necessary.

I don't even mind ironing. Maybe it dates back to when I was two years old and received a toy iron for Christmas, the kind that would really heat up when you plugged it in. I promptly ironed my hanky on the tile floor and folded it into quarters. When I was older I graduated to ironing handkerchiefs for real, and even my dad's cotton boxers. I ironed my boys' white uniform shirts weekly because I liked the crisp, smooth look when they went to school.

These days my rigid ideas about laundry have had to relax a bit. I have not packed an iron on our snowbird journeys during the winter months. If we are in a warm and dry place like Arizona, I do string up a clothesline to dry my clothes. A few minutes in the dryer first gets the wrinkles out. I don't iron my husband's handkerchiefs any more, and his underwear is not the kind you iron. The handkerchiefs just get smoothed out and folded. He doesn't seem to mind.

The other day I committed the 'unpardonable sin'. I put my underwear in the the coloured load which included the dirty work jeans! The washers are so huge, I reasoned, and I 'm paying to use them, so why make two tiny loads?  The underwear looked all right when the wash was done. Over time my undies would not be as white as usual, but who cared?

Adapting my laundry practices to the existing conditions is one way of breaking down my stronghold of perfectionism. I still love to have clean and folded laundry, but I won't worry about separating my whites until I'm able to use my own washer.

God says, Though your sins are like scarlet , I will make them as white as snow.  Isaiah 1:18