Me vs. the Yard.

I enjoy mowing the lawn. So today when the sun was shining and a pleasant breeze was spinning through the neighborhood, I asked my dad if I could.

There's a large, mostly flat area to our yard, out by the road, but behind the fence. It's full of clover and sticks and an occasional dandelion and weeds and even an old tree stump and all kinds of naturally growing stuff like that. It's actually quite pleasant, not your average perfectly manicured lawn. But today it was time to tame down the growth.

My dad outlined the section I was to mow, simply enough. Then I began. I bounced along, rolling around the wide perimeter. The sun shone bright. I was loving the blue sky and the breeze that came from moving along on the John Deere. I waved to my dog every time I passed her.

After a few times around, I noticed that the sunshine was starting to fade a bit. Every time I came around the path to the same spot, I saw that it was a bit darker than the time before.

Then the pleasant breeze began to pick up a bit. Not viciously, mind you, just noticeably stronger than before. My brother, who had been swinging for a while near my dog, went inside. The wind knocked the swings around, unsettling them.

It became darker still. The clouds above me had rolled in and were looking potentially rainy. It sure felt like a soaking in the making. But I could still see a bit of bright blue sky of in the distance. Please, God, let me finish this if it's going to rain!

I kept mowing, around, around, around. I urged my steed (ahem... lawn mower) on, overtaking the mess of grass and clovers. The breeze never stopped; it never stopped blowing the clouds, apparently, either.

Soon enough, before the suspected rain ever made its appearance, the ominous clouds went along on their way. Deep blue reigned overhead once more, with the exception of some innocent-looking clouds.

I sang my celebratory songs as I continued on in the sunshine. Days of Elijah, Mighty to Save, No One Like You, You Are Holy. I sang, stopped singing, and continued on, who knows when. I could hardly hear myself over the roar of the mighty beast beneath me. Off key, on key? I made myself sing all in chest voice for a while, even if I went higher than I normally would've, considering the fact that no one could hear me. Hopefully. After all, what's "on pitch" to God anyways? A song, if from the heart, is precious to Him no matter what we think it sounds like.