Ambedo (n.) : A kind of melancholic trance in which you become completely absorbed in vivid sensory details—raindrops skittering down a window, tall trees leaning in the wind, clouds of cream swirling in your coffee—briefly soaking in the experience of being alive, an act that is done purely for its own sake.

The sun is hot, my skin burns under the layers of dirt that cling to my skin. The weight of the hoe makes my arms tired, and the wood has rubbed blisters into my hands. Dirt covers my boots, I’m not even sure what color they were originally. 

Eventually I look up from the dirt I’m moving into ditches to see mountains with clouds slowly scraping their tops. The valley has fields and houses sprawled all over the place. There’s a path zigzagging up a mountain across from where I’m standing. I can hear people yelling in the distance, no doubt just trying to get through the work day. 

It’s beautiful and I have the honor of being apart of all of this. 

I often think about what heaven will be like, the earth restored to its original state. Untouched by greed and sin. I don’t believe that I can completely imagine what it’ll be like, but if I could, I think it’d look like this. 

I can’t wait for that day, but until then, I’m content with the small peek into heaven that Yahweh has given me. 

A small breath escapes me as I lift my hoe and let it strike into hard dirt. Life continues and all I’m doing is the smallest part that won’t make a difference in most peoples lives. But will make a lasting impression on me and the people that frequent this road. 

I truly am blessed.