The attached article appeared in The Dallas Morning News in 2003, the Sunday before Memorial Day. Its message is timeless, so I'm doing a "lazy blog" and posting it here today. Click twice for optimal reading. Happy Memorial Day to you all.
It's 8:30, Friday morning. I’m following my sister down the massive aisles of The Home Depot.
Although the day is young, spring is in the air and Dayle is on a mission. Each year, her green thumb produces award-winning lawns fit for the pages of Better Homes and Gardens. I sense this year will be no exception as we enter the sun-filled nursery.
Trying to sound educated in horticultural matters, I chat about familiar plants nearby, but Dayle isn't listening. Solemn-faced, she studies an array of lush begonias--red, pink and white ones.
Almost reverently, she touches the velvety green leaves, noting each minute detail. Then, carefully, she places three flats of the sanctioned plants onto the waiting wagon.
Caladiums are next, sporting bounteous foliage with broad green margins and deeply veined ruby hearts. Dayle meticulously scrutinizes each plant before choosing.
The wagon is getting difficult, and we leave it behind in search of geraniums.
Gorgeous, grand blossoms nod in the sunlight as we approach, their brilliance breath-taking. A lone red one is promptly selected.
At the check-out register, Dayle inquires about mulch and potted ferns, decides on both, and pays the smiling clerk. I guard the wagon while she fetches the truck.
Within minutes, she returns, gingerly places her prized plants in the back, securing them for the ride home. The mulch is hoisted on board, and we head for the house and unload.
I render myself useless in a lawn chair while Dayle ponders her planting strategy.
Noon arrives and the horticulturist pauses for lunch.
As evening approaches, the young plants are affectionately watered. Dayle wipes her brow, puts her tools away, and joins me on the deck where we admire the fruits of her labor.
"It's a lot of hard work," she says, "but in the morning, it's always worth it."
And so it is with life. Planting. Weeding. Watering. Giving of ourselves for the Kingdom’s sake. Knowing that, when evening shadows fall and our time on earth is over, our labors will render us a glorious reward…in the morning....when we rise.
Thought for the Day:Today's discomfort cannot compare with tomorrow's reward.
I'm a Southern girl head-to-toe, and we ate lots of tomato sandwiches growing up. White bread. Mayo. Tomato. Salt. It's still a favorite summer treat of mine. I just had my first tomato sandwich of the season, and it was divine.
In December of 1985, I became a mother. Seeing my newborn for the first time was a moment I'll never forget. She was so innocent. So perfect. A tiny package from the Master's hand. In my years of writing, I've written myriad articles about motherhood and mothering—some serious; some not. Oddly enough, my very first column in The Dallas Morning News remains one of my favorites. My newborn was approaching the teen years, and life was anything but simple or serene. I'm posting the column this weekend in honor of mothers who stay at home full-time and raise their offspring. It can be a thankless job, and it's often ignored by those in the press. But raising children is the most challenging, influential and rewarding job a woman can have. Happy Mother's Day, dear ones. Make each day count, and may God bless you...abundantly! I do trust you can read the column OK. (It's the lazy way to post, as mywombmate says.) It starts like this:
While perusing the employment classifieds a few days ago, I made a startling discovery: As a stay-at-home mom, I qualify for every job listed. Secretarial. Accounting. Sales. Medical. Dental. Entertainment. Salon Personnel. Couriers. You name it; I qualify. In fact, the only thing missing from my multifaceted resume is an impresive title, enhancing my impressive skills.
A few days ago, three people, dear to my heart, joined me for lunch in a gazebo near my work. Yes, the gazebo is in the middle of a cemetary, but it's a peaceful (and always quiet) place to escape. :-) I returned to work refreshed and ready for whatever.