"MOW' THAN MEETS THE EYE

To mow your lawn, would you choose the toy lawn mower that rattles an impressive fake “vroom”? Or the antique push mower that's so rusted that it's only good now for yard art? Last summer, our front lawn got shaggy as my husband (the official mow-er) recovered from a serious illness that put him in the hospital. Recovering myself from Covid, I wasn't much yard work help. When our son and family came over to help, the middle grandson, 7 1/2, grabbed a toy lawn mower that doesn't cut anything but makes impressive “vrooom” sounds. The oldest grandson, barely 9, eyed a better choice—our gas-powered lawn mower (NOT the old rusty one in the photo). His dad pulled the cord to start it and gave him some safety advice. Then, his dad walking alongside him as he strained to push, the boy realized he wasn't ready for that adult task. Reluctantly, he let his dad take over.

Afterward, I thought of my own lawn-mowing challenge as a young woman. This came after my parents died half a year apart. They were survived by me (still single at 31) and my older, married sister, who was busy with a young family and bookstore business. To “settle their affairs,” the only reasonable choice was for me to drop out of my graduate program, and move into their home. I'd need to dispose of their life's accumulations through estate sales, spiff up the interior with paint, keep up yard work, and try to sell the house. Our parents' home sat on a huge corner lot, with lots to mow and weed. The task exhausted me every week. But—with God's help—I did it for months.

What kept me going in this overwhelming physical and emotional task? Clinging to the Lord in prayer. Caring friends who helped. And scriptures. A Bible verse memorized years earlier came back to me as a reminder that I wasn't alone, and that God would help me through every difficult task I faced in that “estate clean-out” year.

That verse, Isaiah 41:10, had been the weekly “memory verse” for grade-school-age girls for whom I was a Sunday school teacher a few years earlier. In preparing that week's lesson, I suspected they'd stumble over so many words. I also wanted them to understand its application to God's great compassion in our difficult times. I decided to figure out a sort of “sign language” (not the real type) to take us through the verse.

Fear thou not—head turning back and forth for “no.”

For I am with thee—hand to heart.

Be not dismayed—face looking worried, head turning for “no.”

For I am thy God—hand raised to ceiling (as to heaven).

I will strengthen thee—right arm flexed to “show” muscle.

Yea, I will help thee—arm down, open hand reaching out.

Yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness—right hand raised upward.

I lost touch with my “girls” after moving away, though learned that one did become a minister's wife. But I'm glad I could lead that little group, and especially for the impact of that one verse on my life. During that difficult year after my parents' death, it was among scriptures that lifted me up. Without such scriptural encouragement to bolster me, my life would have been as difficult as trying to cut a lawn with a useless toy mower. Or straining to push a real mower that was much too heavy for me to handle alone.

Even today, some four decades later, I when I encounter that passage in Bible study, I remember that lesson time reinforced with uplifted hands. It remains a poignant and truthful reminder that, in any difficult situation, God waits to see me lift my problems and concerns to Him.