Two days ago I blogged about raking and bagging leaves in a client’s backyard and how I kept stepping in dog shit. Well, because the project was too big to finish in one afternoon, I returned today for more manual labor. And, apparently, to step in more shit. Seriously, my client’s dog acts like the whole backyard is her toilet. Fortunately, this time I came armed with plastic sacks to put my boots in so they wouldn’t dirty up my car, Tom Collins, on the ride home. Additionally, I brought slippers for wearing inside my client’s house and for driving home in. Then when I GOT home, I cleaned my rakes in the shower and my boots in the sink. Then, just to be safe, I took Tom to the car wash and cleaned him too.

He didn’t say thank you, but I know he appreciated it.

Finally, and lastly, I cleaned myself. And whereas I’ll spare you the details (I’m assuming you know how showers work), it felt fabulous. No kidding, if you ever really want to enjoy a shower, rake and bag thirty large trash sacks worth of leaves first. Just be sure that while you’re working you step in plenty of dog shit. That really makes a shower great.

You know, life is about contrast.

While raking and bagging leaves today, I listened to a glorious book by Rabbi Steve Leder called More Beautiful Than Before: How Suffering Transforms Us. And whereas I’ve read a lot of books about self-help and spirituality, I’m not sure I’ve ever read (or listened to) a book more human or full of compassion than this one. Indeed, I often had to stop working in order to fully take in Leder’s wisdom on pain and suffering, kindness and humility, and forgiveness and hope. More than once I cried. Not because the stories Leder shares are so heart-breaking (although many of them are), but because I felt that I was meeting a long-lost friend. Not Leder, mind you, although I’m sure we’d get along. Rather, I felt that I was meeting, or at least being being drawn closer to, my own good heart and soul, those parts of me that would gladly endure pain and suffering (again and again) in order to grow personally or help another.

One of Leder’s contentions is that at some point in life we all go through hell. Our bodies break down. Our relationships fail. Our friends and family die. Maybe we just have a bad day. We step in shit and don’t have our slippers with us. These are the facts of life. On planet earth, we suffer. But Leder says, “Don’t come out of hell empty handed.” That is, don’t let your suffering be in vain. Don’t let it isolate you. Rather, let it transform you and connect you to others. Both with my therapist and on this blog, I’ve talked a lot about my traumas–the fire when I was a child, my dad’s going to prison, my breakup with my ex–about the experiences that have shaken me up and turned my life upside down like a snow globe. And yet for all the stress and distress these events have caused, I wouldn’t be without them even if I could. (I can’t; you can’t.) Because they’ve brought my fears to the surface and given me a chance to face them. Because they’ve encouraged me to (get my ass to therapy and) heal. Deep down where it counts. Because they’ve left me more beautiful than before.