Saturday April 28, 2007


Every morning this week our day went as follows:

First- Eat breakfast in our p.j.s (big brother wanted toast and offered to share some with baby boy).

Next we all put on our work clothes, sun screen, shoes, and head outside.  The yard needed a lot of work.  Roses to prune, garden patch to weed, patios to wash down, flower beds to weed and cultivate, and a lawn that was two weeks overdue for a trim.  It was a big task but we put our gloves on and got dirty!

My assistant gardener in charge of: moving hand tools from one bucket to another, finding ladybugs, and throwing dirt-clods.  When I came around the corner and saw him standing on the front porch with broken chunks of dirt all around his feet; I put my hands on my hips and ask him, “Who made this mess?”.  He nods his head very seriously and says, “I did.”

The Fruits of my labor…


Beauty is… fresh tilled dirt.

What makes me tick

Let me begin by saying, I have a good life.  However, there are days when all I do is put out fires. When night comes and the boys are tucked in bed I feel like I have nothing to show for the massive amount of energy I put forth during the course of the day.

Working in my yard is so satisfying.  When the day is over my shoulders are sore, some part of my body is badly sunburnt, and I am covered in dirt.  I hurt- but it’s the good kind of hurt.  I can stand back and look at my beautifully cultivated flower beds, clean patio, mowed lawn, tidy rose bushes, and say, “It is good” (no irreverence intended).  When I fall into bed at night I feel as though I have earned every square inch of my pillow.

Ecclesiastes 5:12 The sleep of a labouring man is sweet, whether he eat little or much: but the abundance of the rich will not suffer him to sleep.

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