At a recent Relief Society meeting, we were sharing stories about raising children and the work we do as mothers and homemakers, when a friend shared this:
When we still had teenage boys at home, my goal in life was to have a perfect, beautiful lawn. One day, when Johnny was about 16, he got this old junker car, and tore it apart, right in the middle of my lawn. Parts, tools, it was a mess!
Standing inside, looking out the window, I said to my husband, "Tom, look at what he's done to my lawn!" I'll never forget Tom's reply in his slow, rich voice:
"Nola, we're grown' boys; not grass."
(Her story, her words as best I can recall them, names changed, and a few descriptive terms added.)
I've thought about this many, many times over the last few months, as I've gone about my daily work, done my best each day to be a good mom, and meet all of the needs of my children. (A girl can dream, right? ;o) It just keeps coming back to me, over and over . . . what am I growing?
What do I really want?
What are my actions saying about my end goals?
At the end of the day, what will I have tended and cultivated?
Am I growing grass, or children?