Sabbath Day

I have found the perfect pre-church Sunday activity for me. Each Sunday morning I walk up to Fellsmere Park with an empty garbage sack, pair of dish gloves and a nice piece of classical music. I know others do not understand what drives me to do these things, but I wish they could feel what peace and happiness I feel in picking up garbage.

As a visitor to the park I am greeted by the early morning sunshine, the sound of the lapping Fellsmere pond and little ducks quacking their hello’s and how are you doings. Old Asian men and women swing their arms and backs in invigorating exercise and smile and say Hi with a polite nod. Frisky little dogs are out taking their morning romp. And I, picking up a few pieces of plastic bags, bottles, and Dunkin Donuts Styrofoam cups get to be a part of that. There is a purpose and a direction that I feel. And a pleasure in knowing that I am helping take care of the Earth. And a connection to other people.

I've been told that it’s working and not keeping the Sabbath day holy, but to me it feels holy and peaceful.

The only thing I can’t figure out is how the majority of the trash winds up in the brambles. Is that where people discard it, thinking that no one else will see it? Is it where the wind blows the unanchored cup? Yes, it’s in the thick of the brambles that I am always trying to tear away a plastic bag from the unyielding thorny bush.

I wonder how much I am like the thorny bush that refuses to let go of the garbage, or how much I am like the garbage that without weight and substance can be tossed and blown about? But mostly I think I am me, a steward over the park who takes joy in its existence and lends a helping hand.