Sunday, May 8, 2016

I Don't Mow the Lawn on Sundays

The grass is as high as an elephant's eye, 
but when I said "Never on Sunday" I did not lie

When I was a little boy, my very first job was to mow the lawn.  With a push mower fortunately, but still my parent's yard was nearly a full acre.  I got $5.00 for the job.  When I would finish, I would find a five-dollar bill laying on the washing machine next to the back door for me (my old man was a silent, mean guy-- that's why I never talk about him much).  That was as personal as it ever got between us-- laying cash on the washing machine for me to pick up.

And it became understood very early, by me, that when I started mowing, I had to finish the job that day, in that moment-- or there would be Hell to pay in the way of a whipping by my father.

That's why, I continued to mow the backyard grass once, in a rainstorm:  Remembering my dad's wrath and his quick use of his belt on my butt.  

But maybe, God Intervened that particular day,

when lightning struck a Pine tree in our front yard.  I remember that I bolted away from the lawnmower, running inside as the terrible, loud clap of thunder rattled our house.  

My dad was sitting in the kitchen and I told him what I had seen outside, and he did not reply, because my mother became engaged in the conversation, saying, "Joe, you wouldn't try mowing in this weather yourself, so don't you say anything about the boy being afraid and coming in...  it's storming outside."

And sure enough, God DID play a hand in that act:  Because that particular lightning bolt which hit that Pine tree also hit my dad's Jeep, and destroyed its electrical wiring system.

After that, I felt confident to lay down some rules of my own regarding the mowing.... 
Never when I had a school-team sport later that day~
Never on Sunday~
and Never when it started to even rain as I mowed the lawn.

~like today....

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