I mowed the yard yesterday morning before I went in to work. I can’t believe I’m about to say this…but I’m pretty proud of the grass in the back yard. It’s funny to be a guy who’s proud of his yard, but here I am.
I come by the pride naturally. It emerges from lots of work. The particular source of my pride yesterday came from the way the St. Augustine grass is spreading.
Two years ago, in the mud and mess left behind from the new septic field, we sodded sections of the yard. Since then, I’ve been following things I’ve learned the hard way: you have to cut St. Augustine high (roots can only grow as deep as the blades are tall. I learned that from the recluse neighbor who recently passed away), during the dry season pull weeds rather than merely mowing them down, trim taller trees to make sure the grass gets enough sun. All the work over the last several seasons has the grass looking good right now and I AM SATISFIED by it.
Satisfaction at work well done is pretty great you all.
I wonder how Jesus felt when he described to the dudes on the road to Emmaus how all of the scriptures pointed to him and his finished work. There were lots of places along the way he could have quit or taken the easy way out…but no Jesus endured. I like to imagine that one of the emotions he felt was satisfaction at a job well done.