Grass.

For those that know me, reading the title, I am sure you are thinking I am going to make a bunch of off collar remarks about marijuana. But really, this blog is about grass, real green grass that we spend a lot of time trying to mow down. And how grass resembles people.

I was sitting outside yesterday for the first time in what seems like years. Just sitting. Not doing anything while I was waiting for the burgers to cook on the grill. The kids were occupied, Kevin was reading, I was on my back step just being. It’s been a really long time since I have done that. And it felt really good and really scary. To be left alone with my thoughts, to be un-preoccupied is a very scary venture. That’s when my inner voices are the loudest. It is what I have been avoiding of late. As I was sitting on the steps I was looking at the grass at my feet. I had just walked across the lawn. I had stepped on these blades of grass and they were laying there flat and depressed from my shoe. But as I stared at them, they started moving around, a couple of them sprung back up right away, others, that were affected more by my touch, took their time, slowly bending from the root, the weight of gravity holding their tops down, until they finally were strong enough at the base to stand up tall again. I think the human spirit is a lot like grass. (Ha! Things I never thought I would say). Sometimes when something crushes that grass for a long time, parts of it die, but once that painful barricade is removed, the grass grows again, standing tall, not always the same, but still growing. I think when we are injured, emotionally or physically, we are a lot like that too. We stay down, sometimes shortly and sometimes for long periods of time, until our core is strong enough to let us stand tall again.