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Wednesday, July 28, 2004

I've just come in from a little over an hour spent weeding the yard. I've been pulling up a mixture of clover, thistle, and wild strawberries mostly, with a bit of crabgrass and miscellaneous weeds thrown in. I even came across two maple trees taking surprisingly deep root under our bushes. I wasn't able to pull either one out; I may have to resort to more drastic measures.

The lawn is in atrocious shape. It's been neglected for so long that the dandelions own most of it. No kidding: I pulled up a test patch to see what a thorough weeding would do. There's only a few blades of grass, and dirt. My long term plan had been to put down some corn germ and grass seed this fall, but I may have to rethink that. Sodding the entire yard would be too expensive; perhaps I'll rent a tiller and just grind the thing up, start all over from scratch. I don't know if Jen will go for a yard covered with hay for the winter, though.

So I'm hot and sweaty and stinky, I'm sure. Jen will be home in half an hour, wondering where her dinner is.

I regret nothing.

You see, while I was out there the shape of this week's sermon came to me. I'd waited on it all day, but it never came around until I gave up on it and went outside. It's peaceful out in the yard, meditative. I leave the phone inside, and if it's not too hot, bring the dogs out on their leashes. Then we attack the weeds with gusto. It's a way of coming closer to God, and the exercise doesn't hurt either. I wouldn't exactly call it prayer, but it does clear the mind and the heart for a different kind of work.

So what can you do? Say "amen," and bring a trash bag for the weeds you've ripped up.

Discovered your blog by accident and it certainly made my tea break more interesting.

Thanks for the story of your gay friend's ordination. It lifted the spirit!
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