Greener Grass

I'll never forget the first time my dad let me drive his riding lawn mower by myself, the Snapper Comet ... quite possibly the coolest riding lawn mower ever made. For months, Daddy had me ride in his lap while he mowed, teaching me how to use the clutch and the gears, what height was best for different parts of the yard, how to engage the cutting blade, and so on. There were times when I thought I would never be allowed to drive the mower on my own, and I was young enough to think that mowing the lawn was actually "fun." The day finally came, however, when Daddy handed me the keys to the mower and said, "She's all yours, Sam ... do a good job and I'll give you $5.00."

The first few times I mowed, I was meticulous at the task, taking great care to painstakingly make sure that every blade of grass was cut to the best of my ability. It wasn't long, though, until I began to try and find ways to decrease my mowing time (like slamming Dad's beloved mower into the highest gear and taking corners at breakneck speed ... well, breakneck speed for a riding lawn mower anyway) so that I could be done with the yard and move on to spending time with my friends. I quickly learned that mowing was more work than it was fun, even with the riding mower.

I've mowed a lot of yards since those early days of my youth, at my own homes and also at Mom and Dad's when I would travel back to Chattanooga for visits. It's funny to me that the smell of freshly cut grass, no matter where I am or whose grass is being cut, that smell always takes me back home to the house at the top of Ormand Drive in the small town of Red Bank, Tennessee. I can see Mom and Dad sitting on the back porch ... Mom in her white pants and little white shoes, and Dad in his suspenders with his ever-present hat perched atop his patch of white hair. I can see them wave at me as I make pass after pass on the mower ... I can taste the cold sweet tea Daddy always gave me to drink when I was finished mowing.

When I was young, I always dreamed of moving away from Red Bank, of seeing the world, of becoming a famous writer, of falling in love and living happily ever after. I always thought the grass would be much greener if I could get away from the little town of my birth ... if I could just move away, my life would somehow be so much better. Most of the dreams I had when I was young never came true, but I did move away from Tennessee and have since lived in Florida and Kansas. I traveled to Mexico when I was in college, and I've seen the Rocky Mountains of Colorado more than a time or two. And oddly enough, the older I've gotten, the more I realize that the grass was the greenest at the very place I came from. I never realized back then just what I had in my own back yard ... a loving family, lifelong friends, roots ... green, green grass ... the greenest I've ever seen.

Perhaps I'm feeling nostalgic tonight because tomorrow will mark six years since Mom passed away. Perhaps I'm feeling homesick tonight because my brother and sister and nephew, niece and great-niece were here for Meghann's wedding and kept telling me that I need to move home. Perhaps I'm feeling alone and vulnerable tonight because I may be facing surgery on my shoulder and can't figure out who will take care of me. Perhaps the grass really is greener back home. Or perhaps ... just perhaps ... God is teaching me once again ... to be content ... content in where He leads me, content in what He calls me to do, content in all circumstances of life.

I'm listening, Lord ... teach away ... teach away.