Lawnsmowers and scars

Just recently, I’ve taken on a project of isolating all of the words of Yeshua/Jesus in the Bible.  I realize this separates them from their context, and the meaning can be lost. Still, I’m realizing through this process that Yeshua’s words outside of their context have a great deal of weight.  By removing the questions he was asked and the circumstances within which he is speaking, I’m realizing that his recorded words, all by themselves, are the only doctrine I need to follow.  

I have come to a place where I believe we should be able to walk in a doctrine of Yeshua’s words only.  I’ve come to think I don’t need an apostle or a commentator or preacher or anyone else to explain Yeshua’s meaning.  I think he was quite clear.  From this project, I’m discovering that through his teachings, Yeshua gave counsel on almost every area of life.  He gave us commandments, rebukes, advice and instructions.  He taught Torah, taught us to obey the Torah, and showed us how.  I’m somewhat obsessed with his words now.

Most recently I read the parable of the pearl of great price.  In this story, a merchant sees a very valuable pearl, and he sells everything he has to have that one pearl.  Right next to it in the gospel of Matthew is a story about a man who finds a treasure buried in a field, and he sells everything he owns to buy that field and possess that treasure. In my growing document of Yeshua’s words, these two parables sort of stick out, all by themselves, among the other subject matter.  Without the directional words about who he was talking to and what was said before them, these two parables sort of float all alone together.  

I remember the day I met my husband, he had the look of a man who had seen a pearl of great price, and he was ready to give up anything, anything at all, to have it.  I came to recognize this look later, at some point, as we grew in love and knowledge of one another.  It was US that he saw.  Somehow, sitting there under the flickery fluorescent lights, enclosed in my little development coach cubicle, this man saw that the two of us together would be more than either of us could ever be apart.  I know that’s what he saw because two days later, that’s what he told me when I asked him why he was so confident we were meant to be. 

Storm never wavered in his determination that I was a special and important woman, and that he was the blessed one for having met me and married me.  He told anyone that would listen that his was an excellent wife, the center of his world, and the best thing to ever happen to a miscreant like him.  For my part, I could never figure out what this strong, sexy, confident man ever wanted with a mousy bookworm like me, but he never wavered in his confidence of us.  Because of that, I always knew that I was the blessed one that he even saw me to begin with.   

A theme of my week has been, “life and death are in the power of the tongue.”  More than one friend has said those exact words to me, and I just keep stumbling over that one.  If you’d like to read it in context, it’s Proverbs 18:21.  In my life, the circumstances leading up to Storm’s suicide taught me that this must be true.  I’m usually delighted to be shown yet more proof of the Bible’s veracity.  This particular lesson I wish I could have learned another way.

 

I try not to think about what I would say to Storm, if he were to be standing here right before me.  I think the only thing I could make come out of my mouth is how very, very sorry I am for my harsh words; for my anger and hateful behavior.  His fault, my fault, the world’s fault; it doesn’t really matter because in the end he is still gone, and I am still alone.  Nothing will change what has happened.  Sometimes I wish with all my heart that I could reach out and grab the words that just came out of my mouth and stuff them back down my throat.  

The Bible says a man and a woman "cleave" together and become one. There's an idea there in the original Hebrew language that is very sexual and has to do with, well, becoming "one" in the literal sense. It also has a spiritual sort of meaning, like a joining together of the soul. If someone loses a hand, they never really stop missing the hand, even though they learn to live without it. The same applies here. Half my soul was torn away. For a long time, I had a bleeding, gaping wound, and because it can't be treated with medicine, it festered and refused to heal, and then left a big, nasty scar. 

That scar hurt for a long, long time. Then, after a while, it would stop hurting sometimes. For a minute, or two, and then longer. These days, it flares up sometimes, but mostly just aches a little. I sort of get used to the hurt; like an old broken bone, it becomes a normal thing I anticipate. More like a background noise. Then, just like that old broken bone, it flares up again, and suddenly, I’m acutely aware that I’m alone, and still missing half my soul.

So, I ask myself: What brings all this up right now, self?  What’s got you dredging up all of the past hurts and pains and sorrowful thoughts of words spoken in haste and great gaping Storm-shaped holes?

Two things, really; the lawn, and a hard decision I’ve already made. I’d rather not delve into the decision, so let’s talk about the lawn.

The lawn seems like such a petty thing.  I think I have probably written about my trials with the old Craftsman lawnmower, and the continuously growing lawn, and the way it has been since I moved here three years ago.  If I haven’t, then good.  There are more important things to talk about. Nevertheless, here we are.

 

Deep in the grass....Thing lurks....

The short version is this: I have learned if you want a lush, beautiful, thick happy lawn; stop mowing it.  Here in the Pacific Northwest, if you have exposed dirt, you have grass.  It’s that simple.  While some places I’ve been I could have a rock garden or plant indigenous ground cover; in this part of Oregon, that is way more work than just letting the grass grow.  I hope to replace the grass with a food garden and tiny orchard, but that’s an ongoing process, and will likely take a few years to get to.  In the meantime, my grass is growing and growing and it's time to mow.

Paths through the jungle

I am incompetent to take care of lawn machines. I currently have five non-functioning grass cutting power machines on the property.   My well-meaning friends who come to help me, mostly male, look at me with such patient kindness; and they carefully conceal the look that says I’m the village idiot.  I, myself, feel defeated by it.  I can run a business meeting or change a toddler’s diaper and not even cringe.  I can hike ten miles with blisters, and drive in the worst kinds of weather with genuine confidence.  But faced with the seemingly endless needs of a powered lawn machine, and a lawn that I swear I can hear growing, I am unable to cope and am reduced to tears.  

My poor old Crafstman

It’s not the poor mower’s fault.  It’s just sitting there looking dirty and pitiful.  I’m entirely sure it’s my fault.  I did mention I’m incompetent to run these machines, right?  Every year, something happens and it won’t start.  Every year, I’ve got to ask a brother, or a friend, usually someone else’s husband, to help me out and make it go sputter-sputter-vroom.  I’m so incompetent I can’t even begin troubleshooting the problem to avoid begging for help once again, and generally make things worse trying to make them better.  

My trusty reel mower has got a big job ahead!

 
I do have a nice reel-style push mower.  Normally it’s a great little workout, but it’s been raining for four months and the grass is two feet tall.  I do think my trusty little friend CAN DO IT! Still, it takes a long time to get to England in a row boat.

 

The very real need to mow the lawn and the very real fact that once again I’m doing a mowing marathon with the pusher is not really why I’m sitting on a cinder block crying over my poor dead lawn mower in the carport every single year.  This one thing more vividly highlights the big Storm-shaped hole in my life than anything else can.   Here I am trying with all my effort to be successful and still I'm failing at this simple thing that my very talented husband seemed to do without thinking.  Even if he had shown me how to do it, and the machine still wouldn’t start, he would be right there to help fix it.  I wouldn’t be alone, wondering who to call or from where my help will come, and how long will that lawn be when I finally am able to mow it.  

For those who will offer to help; thank you.  I believe help is in the offing.   An unknown kind-hearted friend talked to another kind-hearted acquaintance, and it’s possible YHVH has answered this widows’ prayer through that conversation.  To the unknown friend; I think I know who you are, and I hope you know I appreciate you so much, and to the other kind friend, thank you.  You might help me start to overcome something that is much bigger to me than a broken lawnmower. I am grateful, because my experience this year has convinced me that I need to try to find a more sustainable solution.   I am continually blessed by my family at Cornerstone.

 

That proves once again the love of my Father in Heaven and how he is taking care of me even when I can’t see it.  Even when I am certain he has abandoned me to cope alone.  Even when I am positive I cannot solve a problem, he is there, solving it ahead of me.  I am also reminded that an amazing man once saw a pearl of great price in me, and that I shouldn’t accept any suitor that doesn’t also see the same.  Lessons of the heart from lessons of the lawn.

 

Logically, I can see that the lawn might not get mowed; honestly, that IS the worst case scenario here.  Hardly a real problem, by almost any standard.  Logically, I know that I have the physical strength, 2 young adult daughters, and the time to use the pusher.  That will also avoid the noise and air pollution, and I'll get a really amazing group of workouts.  In the end, I will be proud of getting it done, and we will get started on the garden, which is bigger than all of these things.  

I pray for healing, because that scar still hurts so much.  I pray for a restoration, Abba, and growth and strength to overcome such things without all of the crying and pain.  I know that I am wholly blessed with all of the blessings our Father promises us for the simple act of obeying Him, and I pray that I continue to find favor in his sight.  I pray also for other women who might read this and are struggling with similar issues, that they also are blessed with healing and comfort.  

I know this passage is addressed to the people of Israel, but it brings me comfort, even so. 
Isaiah 54:4 “Do not fear, for you shall not be put to shame, nor hurt, you shall not be humiliated. For the shame of your youth you shall forget, and not remember the reproach of your widowhood any more.  5 “For your Maker is your husband, יהוה of hosts is His Name, and the Set-apart One of Yisra’ĕl is your Redeemer. He is called the Elohim of all the earth. 6 “For יהוה has called you like a woman forsaken and grieved in spirit, like a wife of youth when you were refused,” declares your Elohim. 7 “For a little while I have forsaken you, but with great compassion I shall gather you.”

Hallelu-Yah. 
Blessed are you, YHVH, king of the universe, who shows kindness to the widow and the orphan. 

I am grateful that he sees me, and that he hears my prayer.  May he bless all who read this with great shalom.