Our whole marriage, having a nice yard was something we both enjoyed. I did the building, heavy upkeep and of course mowing, edging, fertilizing. She planted her flower beds and kept them weeded. She so enjoyed her time with the Lord while working in the dirt. We learned early on that it was best to let Scott do it his way because someone didn't like to be told what to do or how to do it. I'm still working on that character flaw, by the way. We naturally delegated yard jobs between each other, but we both got to do what we loved to do. Some jobs took 2, and she was always there for me when I needed a hand. She made everything so beautiful.

It's now been over 2 years since Juani died. Before this year, the last real yardwork I remember doing was getting the backyard all spruced up and ready for her annual neighborhood Easter egg hunt a month or so before she passed. That was about it for me for yard work that year. As the days, weeks and months crawled on in the aftermath of her death, I paid little attention to the yard. Those pesky little weeds just kept getting bigger. Thistles and giant sized dandelions, with a whole lot of crab grass taking over. I could barely get the lawn mowed once a month. I could sort of see how bad it looked, but in the haze I was in, I just didn't have the energy to do anything but survive, and having a decent looking yard no longer held any importance to me. Last year, same scenario. Only tumbleweeds moved in. They gotta take root somewhere, and I guess my yard (and my life) became a paradise for tumbleweeds. If you want to have a good looking yard, water and fertilizer and mowing is pretty dang important. Last year I lost most of what remained of my lawn, only to be replaced with the ugliest mix of weeds you could imagine.

And then it happened. This weekend I got out there and started to clean up the mess 2 years of neglect causes. And I actually spent some time sitting on my butt weeding some flower beds. I never did that. I had no interest in doing that. And that was Juanita's job, and a part of me steadfastly refused to do it until this weekend because, well, that was her job. And it wasn't fair. And so I had a blockage. The one thing we so enjoyed doing together was the one thing I couldn't bring myself to do for 2 years. But that changed, at least this weekend. It was already looking pretty aweful this Spring. You know it looks bad when the druggies and methheads walking by shake their heads in disgust as they walk by on the sidewalk. There goes the neighborhood, I could almost hear them thinking on their way to or from one of several neighborhood drug houses that keep sprouting up. Sorta like my weeds. Pull one out, take it down, and 3 more pop up somewhere.

So as I'm sitting there on my buttinski on a perfect beautiful morning one day this weekend, I realized that I was actually enjoying weeding. Relaxing. Time to think, or not think. Just pulling those weeds. Making it look better, one flower bed at a time. And when I realized I was enjoying doing the job Juanita always did, I saw the blockage for what it was. In so many ways, my grief turned me into a spoiled brat. I didn't want to do something, so I didn't. At least once I became semi-functional. Kickin' and screamin', wawlin' and bawlin'. And then it dawned on me, how much Juanita always told me she so enjoyed doing the flower beds. Her special time with God, she always said. And then it came to me that she wasn't here to do her favorite thing anymore. And so I was doing it for her. And that was a good focus for me to have. If she wasn't here to do what she loved to do, then I could do it for her. Blockage gone.

And in that time sittin on my butt I had another gem. You gotta catch those weeds while they are little. And then you yank them up roots and all. Same with life. For you see, little weeds always turn into big weeds if you don't get them out of there. Roots and all. And most of the weed is hidden from view deep underground where its dark. Roots love that environment. So dig for the root and once you find it, that weed is gone and will never come back. To put it another way, every big weed begins as a little weed, a tiny seed actually. I can only speak for myself, but I had a whole lot of weeds sprout up in my life of grief these past 2 years. Dang near choked me out. And most of those weeds had been just lying dormant for 30 years. Yes, little weeds can become big weeds if we don't deal with them. Ahh, the lessons of grief. Hot dang, my yard looks sorta like a yard again. Only took me 2 days, plus 2 years to face it. Not a speed record, but as the saying goes, we're not here to win any races. We're just here to survive. God bless and comfort us all. ~~~ Scottie