billmignon@sbcglobal.net
My husband Bill loves to work in the yard. Have you ever noticed how men love to work in the yard with their tools? Now I’m not talking about the type of yard tools that most of us simpletons use, like a rake or a broom. No, I’m talking about the kind of tools that come in a variety of horsepowers with engines and sharp spinning objects. The kind of tools that take blood, sweat and several prayers to start and are so loud they cause all of the people and wildlife within a twenty mile radius to go deaf for at least half an hour. Me, I don’t really like yard work, but I am amazed by the things the Lord shows me when I am working in His Creation.
So it was this balmy sunny day when Bill was helping me rake the leaves in our backyard. This yard with twelve trees was the reason I had fallen in love with our house. This yard with twelve trees was the reason I decided that I would never buy a house with trees again. Not unless it came a with a lawn service that raked day and night to keep the grass from dying and the neighbors from shaking their heads in dismay as they walked by.
I have often wondered if that was the real reason the owners sold us this house- to get out of raking the leaves. I can just envision them twirling their fingers, laughing hysterically as they signed the mortgage papers, all the while saying “we’re free, we’re free, now they will have to rake all the leaves!”
Did I say that Bill was helping me rake the yard? Let me rephrase that,
I meant that I was raking the yard while Bill was attempting to blow every leaf in every direction except the direction of the bag with the 50-pound leaf blower ceremoniously strapped to his chest. As he continued on in his “me blow leaf everywhere” routine, I tried several times to get his attention. I needed him to at least blow the leaves in my direction so that I could pick them up.
This turned out to be harder than I imagined. Getting Bill to acknowledge my presence as a fellow yard worker required me to scream as loud as I could to be heard above the roaring din of the 40 horsepower engine. Instead of turning the machine off to be heard, Bill simply made some gestures with his free hand signaling that he could not hear me. In my naivety, I would gesture back to him in sign language hoping that he would understand that my signals meant, “Turn off that dumb machine and pick up a rake like every other sane person who actually wants to get rid of the leaves!”
It was at precisely this point that God chose to reveal his humor by showing me a rather ironic picture of myself. In my mind, I could see God sitting up in heaven, trying to get my attention. He sat there patiently; waiting for me to acknowledge his presence, signaling to me which direction was the right one for me to take. Yet I just stood there with my leaf blower of a life turned up so loud that all I could do was yell, “I can’t hear You God You’re going to have to speak louder!”
Isn’t that a lot like our lives at times? We run full steam ahead, life and all of its weight strapped to our chest, blowing everyone and everything out of our way as we desperately search for the path that God has for us. When all we really need to do is stop, turn off the noise and wait quietly for God’s gentle direction.
Eventually, to my great relief, Bill’s manly machine ran out of gas and we were able to finish the yard by raking the old fashioned way. I’m grateful for the insight that the Lord gave me; however, I’ve still decided that at our next house, I’m hiring a lawn service.
Direct my footsteps according to your word
- Psalm 119:133
Copyright Mignon Murrell
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About the Author:
Mignon Murrell is Christian freelance writer whose work has appeared in newspapers, magazines and online. She recently finished her first book, “Stirring The Waters- Devotions for Inner Healing”. You can find out more about Mignon by viewing her website at: www.mignonmurrell.com
