Mowing My Grass

It has been a fairly intense 5 months since I last posted on this blog. I fell into a fairly lazy (and wonderful) routine this summer. Napping, reading, walking, going to the pool, hanging with my peeps and my sweetheart. I even took my mom to Graceland and the Grand Ole Opry.

In the middle of all of the routine, I cleaned out a closet and found a ton of letters and cards that friends and family had sent to me while I was at Renfrew nearly five years ago, taking those first, shaky steps towards recovery from a lifetime of starving myself. I looked at cards from my 5th graders with wonderful drawings, and cards from well-meaning adults with Bible verses and quotes meant to inspire.

There were notes in the unmistakable perfect handwriting of my mother where she tells me what the weather is like and what she bought at Wal-Mart. (In between those neatly written lines were the messier, invisible thoughts: Will you be well? What else can I do?)

There was one brief note in my dad's shaky scrawl where he tells me to get better so that I "can go fishing" and "mow your grass." Those two sentences caused me to smile and my heart was full of tenderness towards my dad. For while my mother is more often the more eloquent and softer voice, Dad had nailed the whole reason for my journey.

I was in search of the chance to "go fishing." I wanted a simple life with the journey being the focus. I wanted my life to slow down enough to dig for worms, put my line in the water and wait. I wanted to rejoice when I reeled in the big fish, but be content with an empty stringer, knowing there would be another day.

I also wanted to "mow my grass." I wanted the physical, emotional and mental strength to do what needed to be done. I wanted to be able to yank the starter and push through; I wanted the satisfaction of looking back over the work I had done and be pleased.

So. . . what have I been doing while I haven't been posting? I've been fishing and mowing my grass.

My baby girl is expecting a baby of her own. Brandon, her now husband, has become an official son. I'm thankful for the family they are, for the love that they bring to my already full life. But, I would be lying, if I said this was how I had it all planned out. I would not be truthful if I said there hadn't been a few tears and a little exhaustion. (I'm sure there are dozens of posts to write about it all in the future!)

The good news though (besides the best news of a grandson) is that through it all I found myself able to fish and mow. . . Thanks be to God and my dad.