A soaking wet hand grabbed mine as she pulled me back over to the basin water. She shoved her small bucket in my direction while looking at me with expectant eyes. She doesn’t say much but her communication is crystal clear.
I picked up her bucket, filled it to the halfway mark, and passed it back off to her. With a giggle she clenched the sides and took off running toward the soil being prepped for planting. Water was sloshing and splashing, but she seemed to enjoy the fact that her t-shirt was drenched.
Heisel led the way; I followed closely behind. We arrived at the grounds for the prospective garden and she upturned her bucket. A mere tablespoon dribbled out of the once much fuller vessel, but she smiled with glee at her success. She glanced back at me and took my smile of affirmation as the go ahead to sprint back toward her water source.
On what may have been our eighteenth trip to and fro, Heisel noticed sweet, little Carlitos with an empty juice bottle rolling around in the back of his trike. He was struggling to make it over the tree root obstructing his path and was noticeably frazzled. Heisel stopped in her tracks and looked at her bucket of water, then turned her gaze up to me. Without a second more of thought, she strolled off to Carlitos’ side and carefully poured the contents of her bucket into his bottle. They were both beaming as they sauntered off toward their destination.
Before too long, the plot of land was ready to be planted and the seeds were ready to be sown. Together, we squished pieces of earth between our fingers to break up clumps. Together, we poked little holes into the moist mud. Together, we picked which seed would occupy each pit and pushed the dirt back in place. Together, we hoped for our seeds to take root as I prayed for our futures to be abundant.
We wiped our mud-covered hands on my shirt and smiled at a job well-done. After a big hug and a tight squeeze, I waved goodbye to my treasured friend.
As I stared out the backseat window of the team van, I thought about the fruit of the day, about the love that was produced and the joy that was harvested.
Because, sometimes, joy is just that simple. It’s a hand to hold, a friend to share with, a soft smile and a silly giggle. It’s muddy fingers, dirt under the nails, a mission accomplished and a hope for the future.
Every day is a reason to rejoice.
