The water pours gently out of the hose, sparkling as sunlight dances inside its clear stream. Blobs of wet light rush to the grass, splashing as they hit, bending the green blades, then they disappear into the brown earth beneath.
African daisies, in yellow and orange, stretch up from the garden cheerfully. It's the kind of joy that speaks of glory and heaven.
My daughter runs to me with curls bouncing and words bubbling from her lips to ask for a bath. If only we would all ask to be cleansed like this. Our weary souls need it. We're much too proud to notice our filth, much less ask to be rid of it.