The children’s home painting project was a disaster in every logical sense. I’ve heard more complaints than anything else. Some volunteers were complaining about how boring scrapping paint can get while some complained about the music from the radio. Others complained about being there.
There are also gems to be held from the filtering. Some pedophobic guys started to volunteer and my 13-year old brother decided to give away his comics to the kids because comics are/were important to him and the kids have only one comic book in their library.
So in the illogical sense, the home painting project was a success. I liked how we were doing it together, mothers, husbands, sons, daughters, brothers and sisters. Families don’t always have it perfect, and that was what we were: family. Unknown to us at that time, we were following and being the hands and feet of the One who came down… literally covered in (His) dust and debris.
On another note, I received my credit card bill today and it’s one of the nicest things this week.
Total amount spent: $0