Don’t get me wrong, I love my “job.” The old saying that “the man who loves his job is always on vacation,” really applies to me. But this morning I got a master’s class, a sermon, a life lesson in joy.
I wasn’t close enough to her to recognize the tune she was humming under her breath, it ws as if she were humming subconsciously — as if the humming were a part of her being as much as her breathing or of her heart beating — as if the humming were not started or stopped as an act of volition, but rather as part of her whatever it’s called, the “system autonomic”? (I can’t remember-anatomy class was way too long ago) anyway, the system that keeps one breathing and keeps one’s heart beating without any help from the owner/operator.
But whatever the tune was, it was being hummed out of a heart full of joy. I just watched, as I have watched other people on so many occasions: short order cooks and waitresses at a Waffle House, or garbage men, hopping down off of the back end of a smelly, dirty garbage truck, and grabbing a filthy, stinking plastic garbage bags full of dirty diapers, rotten food scraps, and other assorted foul smelling stuff and throwing them joyfully — yes, JOYFULLY — into the foul smelling, filthy, dirty truck.
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Image: Wikimedia Commons