“Oh, for the love of God”

Our friend and deacon, Jason Lamb, is in charge of making sure the yard at the church gets mowed, and for some of the work he piecemeals it out to those of us who are willing to give it a turn. I get my turn, and this year it happened to be yesterday.

Compared to our rocky, hilly yard with its 20-plus trees, its many stumps and bushes and other obstacles, I remembered the church grounds to be mostly flat and with far fewer obstacles. So, it was going to be a breezy enough job.

So, I go, and I get myself reacquinted with the tractor, and I’m just sailing along ready to be of service to the Lord.

It took about three seconds for me to realize that mowing at the church presents one obstacle that I had totally forgotten about.

You see, Jason and the Pastor are good men of God, and they want their love and respect to show when His people come to worship on Sunday. This means that they like the grounds to be ship-shape. Add the fact that it’s late-September, and you get a lawn that, were it someone’s house, wouldn’t really need to be mowed at all. This is excellent for everybody involved except for the dude doing the mowing.

Were I an eagle-eyed 20 year old, this wouldn’t be any issue; I am, however, a pigeon-eyed 51 year old–working hard on my promotion to bat-eyed–and for me it is quite an issue.

So I’m tooling along, guessing here and there if I’m going far enough out in my line to get all the grass left behind with my last swipe, seeing occasionally that I haven’t gone far enough and having to swing back wide the next time around to get what I missed. Any meticulous mower of lawns knows what that means; that means that my design is altered and the lines the tires make lose their uniformity.

And I’m like, “Ob, for the love of God,” when a moment of clarity comes upon me and fills me with a sense of calm. For the love of God, indeed.

I find comfort in the knowledge that, when we set out to do good work, despite our motivations, we succeed in just the attempt. Sure, I may have finished with stress in my neck and strain in my eyes, but I got the good work done, and if it wasn’t perfect it was perfect enough.

I was reminded once more how it’s the attempt that matters most, the willingness to do the job; not even trying is where true failure lies. The reminder was worth it all.

You’ll be great today, friends, as long as you make the attempt.

See you back here soon.