It's 9:39 p.m. and I am making soap. From scratch. In my kitchen.
I'm not going to lie. There is a huge part of me that would rather be in bed asleep or preparing for tomorrow morning's Sunday services: ironing and laying out clothes, brushing teeth and setting out Bibles.
So why are my purple rubber gloves pulled up to my elbows as I slosh the dishes in the sudsy water for yet another round of soap making?
Because I am compelled to not forget.
I am compelled to remember their richness of soul and poverty of earthly needs.
The sanitation in this area was desperately lacking. There simply was no money, no jobs, no resources.
And so here, after all three of my children take their 30-minute long Saturday night bath with a tub filled with hot clean water and soak to their hearts' content, I bring out my supplies and make soap to send to those in desperate need.
Because I want to always remember and never forget.
There is always something you can do to help.
P.S. You are welcome
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