I am the waterer. I make things grow. While Bill is out saving the world from financial inaccuracy, I am at home keeping our newly seeded back yard from permanent dormancy.

I used to have a place in the business world. I reminded myself as I moved the sprinkler, getting mud all over my hands in the process. What happened to the go-getter who jumped at the chance for advancement and increased responsibility?

I walked around the house to where the mower was waiting and began cutting the sodded front yard, wondering if there was a place for me outside the boundaries of our lawn.

A few minutes later I was jolted from my thoughts when a man with a newspaper carrier bag slung across one shoulder stopped at a neighbor's house to place a flier inside their front door.

Don't make eye contact. I told myself as I unhooked the grass catcher and emptied its contents.

I hoped the man would cross the street when he saw that I wasn't interested. Instead, I watched out of the corner of my eye as he walked across the lawn and up to my door to insert another flier.

He's not trying to make a sale. I realized with relief. He's just trying to make a living.

 Like Henry. I added, remembering the man I met two months ago on a train headed for downtown Chicago. (See August newsletter.)

Thinking about what Henry went through on that hot summer day made me see this man in a new light. He was no longer a bother, but a brother in Christ.

I let go of the mower and looked in the man's direction. Sweat dripped off my forehead as I watched him walk toward me on his way to the next house.

Maybe he's hot too, I decided as I wiped my face with the bottom part of my shirt.

 "Would you like a bottle of water?" I asked, now hoping for the eye contact I had originally tried to avoid.

"Yes," he said eagerly as he broke into a shy smile.

I quickly walked to the small refrigerator in our garage, knocking over the bag of grass clippings in the process.

"Don't worry about it." I said as the man righted the bag and began to refill it with the spilled contents.

"I hope you like grape." I said, handing him my favorite flavored water.

"God bless you." he said as he peeled the plastic seal off the lid.

No, God bless you. I thought to myself, grateful for the opportunity to think of Henry ... and serve another person on his behalf.

I may not be able to save the world, I decided as I watched the man disappear down the street. But I can try to be like the One who has.

I finished mowing the front yard and made my way to the back to move the sprinkler to yet another location. This time, the mud on my hands and the monotony of the task no longer bothered me.

I am the waterer. I thought with a smile. I serve the One who makes grass—and people—grow.

A Quote to Grow On

"the most contagious Christians are those who've learned to work within the design God has given them"

Bill Hybels & Mark Mittelberg, Becoming A Contagious Christian, p. 132

A Poem I Stumbled Upon

While back in Nebraska visiting family last week, Bill's grandmother showed me a book published in 1965 that contained a poem written by Catherine Cate Coblentz, a writer who lived from 1897 to 1951. May Catherine's words encourage all of us to enjoy and make the most of the place we have been given in this world.

THE HOUSEWIFE                     

Jesus, teach me how to be

Proud of my simplicity.

 

Sweep the floors, wash the clothes,

Gather for each vase a rose.

 

Iron and tend a tiny frock,

Keeping one eye on the clock.

 

Always having time kept free

For childish questions asked of me.

 

Grant me wisdom Mary had

When she taught her little Lad.

-The Treasure Chest, (New York: Harper & Row Publishers, 1965), p. 133