Requiem For A Lawnmower
I confess that I get attached to my machines. It must be
something in the male genes. I take good care of them, making sure they are in
top running condition. Each machine has its own personality and quirks. I
marvel at how they are made.
It is with this in mind that I share the sad story of my
Craftsman self-propelled lawnmower. I eyed this beauty at the Sears store. It
was a wonder to behold: forest green with black wheels. I knew this was the
machine that could manicure my lawn with precision.
The backstory is that I was in a season of discontent. I was
unemployed having resigned my pastoral role at a large church. Because the
parting was not sweet, I was in turmoil. Much of my time was in rewind of what
went wrong and how I was wronged. In short, I was having a huge pity party to
which only I was invited.
With my new lawnmower in hand, I attacked the backyard. My
mind preoccupied with issues of revenge. I was not paying attention to what I
was doing. All of a sudden I heard this bang! A loud shudder from the lawnmower
and a dead stop: my new mower had died. I knelt down looking for the problem
and discovered that the mower had run over an above ground tree root and bent
the drive shaft. After repeated pulling on the starting cord, I realized my
beautiful mower was dead.
I knelt there in the
grass sobbing. I couldn’t believe it. My new mower destroyed. I hurriedly
picked it up, put it in the trunk of my car and drove to the Sears store hoping
that they could repair it. At the store, they said it would be cheaper to buy a
new one. A new one: I was in mourning for my broken one? I went back out to the
car and sat there crying like a baby for my dead mower.
I know this sounds crazy. However, when you are at the end
of your rope nothing is crazy. God’s word says: “If you fall to pieces in a
crisis, there wasn’t much to you in the first place.”
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