Spring cleaning today. I wiped clean the walls in the family room, now free from a winter’s worth of wood stove dust. The walls, butter yellow, a color I painstakingly selected years ago. In the hallway, a dime-sized hole in that yellow Sheetrock.

Each time I walk past that blip of an imperfection, my spirit growls. Stupid hole, don’t you dare get bigger.

So what do I do with this?

This is Kolkata, India.

Suddenly a little hole in the wall is not such a big deal.

Who lives there? Is there a mom like me, cleaning, wiping away grime from walls that are nothing like mine?

What does she think of her walls made of cloth and sticks?

Lord, help me…

Proverbs 31:8-9

Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute. Speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the poor and needy.

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Do something…