Sabbath Soul Searching

I don’t rest well. I try. I really do. But my “quiet time” is always interrupted with the desire to pick up those sticks over by the fence, or paint the stairway, or do my laundry, or vacuum the carpet in the living room…You get the idea. I know that there is middle ground between hard work and sloth. I just have not been able to find this patch of land for a very long time.

Yesterday, for instance, I woke up and started shoveling mulch. I loaded it into a wheelbarrow and distributed it to flowerbeds throughout our property. In the murky light of dawn, I was moving the finely chopped wood from a huge pile in my driveway to small piles around my yard. I could instantly see the results as the anemic beds became revitalized by my efforts.

I took a short break at 8:45 a.m. so I could deliver my children to their program and returned to the task only after stopping at my local ACE Hardware for landscaping fabric, a bird bath and PREEN.

Back to work, I quickly moved several more cubic feet of brown gold to the front of the house. I carefully brushed it under the hostas and bleeding hearts that have started reaching their new growth to the warm spring sun.

I took another break at 2 p.m. Nacho chips and a cold beer refueled my tank and I returned to my labor. By 5:00 p.m., I was brushing the last of the mulch into the scoop-shovel and wheeling my last barrow full to the herb garden.

This afternoon, I can sit on my back porch and survey the results of the hard work. Freshly mowed, neatly trimmed and perfectly mulched my yard is an oasis. Ten yards of mulch found their home in a little more than eight hours.

Now if I could only walk upright and enjoy the rest I earned. But the sticks are calling my name.

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