Finding Purpose in Life

Twenty years ago in the summer, I traveled  to Guatemala with my Nazarene Church to build church structures in some remote areas of the country.  We would stay in small towns at the local hotels, if you could call them that.  Early one morning, I was up early and went for a walk as the sun was coming up.  The neighborhood was poor with small homes, many in disrepair with few amenities, if any at all.  There was water and sewer, but the area was not well maintained.

There was almost no one up at the time in the small town, but as I walked, I came upon an elderly man tending to some weeds growing between the narrow sidewalk and the curb of the street.  I guessed that he was probably late seventies or eighties.  He was short, as most Guatemalans are, probably five feet, three inches tall and of slight build.

What struck me was the way he was dressed.  He wore a long-sleeve shirt, the button-up kind with cuffs, and a collar, pants of the same off-white or tan color, boots almost knee-high, with his trouser legs tucked in them.  He had on a leather apron that started at his chest and ran almost to his knees and a straw wide-brimmed hat.  Gloves were on his hands.  My recollection is that he had two tools with him: a hoe, which he was using, and a rake nearby.

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