NEVER GIVING UP
I awoke with this image in my head, of a lawn mower tied to a rope, then hoisted down a steep slope. But it wasn’t some inexplicable dream. It was a memory instead.
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There was a beast in him that would show up in the kind of circumstances when most of us would give in. It wasn’t only this unworldly determination but an ability to tap into a part of the brain [I believe we all possess] that specialized in problem-solving under duress.
The slope was the most obstacle-defying example of the kind of man he was—
This is not a “how to mow your slope” essay,
Nor is it a lesson on landscaping techniques.
In case you miss the critical component,
It’s the unwillingness to give up that mesmerizes me.
Those of us with some enormous obstacle standing in our way are hoisters in our own right. We know a thing or two about harnessing brawn and brain to carry off the very thing that has been designated, “impossible,” by those who are masters of giving in.
This seventy-five year old man sits quietly on the ridge just when the hot of the day begins. He appears to be resting, but those who know him better understand he is working out his plan. He stands and removes his shirt to reveal a tanned and lean 6’3” frame. And then he knots the thick braided twine to the handle of the MasterCraft and does what no one would expect.
Armed only with a stripped-down version of our own likeness and sweat pouring from every cell, we manifest the dismissed and unlikely outcome by sacrificing more than a little of ourselves.
I don’t take lightly that his example is a large portion of why I am who I am, and why I’m still here.
This image that comes to me in early morning would be farcical to those who have never dared to try what others ridicule. Here’s the curious and stunning part of it:
Imbedded in the mockery, scorn, derision—is the cure.
I feel my Creator tugging at me in this moment…”Write for Summer, Matthew, Keith, Terry, Avis, and Michelle.” These are my newest definitions of Beast—those who rise in early morning and sit quietly-immersed in both plan and prayer.
There is nothing foreign to me in their departure from what frames a regular, mundane life.
I know their ‘situation’ well.
But there is a slope that needs tending. One that’s steep and winding and inhabited by the long, tangled and deep-rooted weeds.
We sit on the farthest out edge of the ridge and dangle our toes over, and then we take the leap.
Down and then climbing up again, our burden tethered to our own imagined likeness of a taut and braided rope.
Until what is damaging, useless, homely even, is mowed to the ground.
This never giving up is relentless, exhausting, and exhilarating. One pile of debris. Then the next.
Which will grow faster, I ask myself, the festering weeds or me?
Mine to decide. Mine. To. Decide.
I was a young mama of three boys when I watched my senior daddy pull a fifty pound lawn mower up and down a forty foot bank. Muscles straining under the task. And I am on a mission to be like the one with drips of liquid determination pouring from his brow.
“A glass of lemonade is waiting, Daddy!” I wish I could holler over to him now.
At the end of every battle, there is always some sweet reward. Perhaps he didn’t realize it at the time but I [the woman I would become because of him] was his.
What have you decided to live [or die] with? What part of your thinking needs reframing, from ‘never-ending’ disappointment to ‘never giving up or in?’
Despite all the rhetoric that surrounds us and tries its best to seep into our souls, in the end we choose the landscape in which we thrive—
one that takes over what we love like weeds on an embankment
or one [with deliberation] we move aside.
We, each and every one of us, are masters of the garden.
The keepers of our own terrain.
So go be beastly about it. Get to it. You haven’t got all day.
NOTES:
Maybe it’s the smell of fresh-cut grass in Summer. Or maybe it’s the gift of a particular memory at just the right time.
This ingenuity. I remember in the moment thinking he was a little crazy in this tying-mower-to-rope thing.
In my now, this fresh vision of him mastering his own destiny in the most absurd way comes to me when I need it most, from the One who sees every snapshot of my life.
He sees the snapshots of your lives too.
What have you dismissed that was intended as a deeper message along the way?
What passed lesson [deemed good or bad] is beckoning to you today?
Sit with it, on the edge of your own dilemma, and contemplate.
What you have previously judged as ridiculous, foolish, idiotic, insane…just might save you.
Think about that in the early morning, maybe before your feet hit the ground.
To step outside of what is expected, even normal, has potential to create your biggest gain.
Because I love you.
Janene
P.S. I invite you to join with me in contemplative prayer for those mentioned above who share my journey with cancer…each in their own profoundly personal way.
MORE ABOUT THE JOURNEY OF NEVER GIVING UP:
https://www.sanctuaryliving.life/thejournal/pressingin
https://www.sanctuaryliving.life/thejournal/becauseican
https://www.sanctuaryliving.life/thejournal/thisknowing
https://www.sanctuaryliving.life/thejournal/howfaraway
https://www.sanctuaryliving.life/thejournal/livedexperience
About the Image: I wish I had an image of my daddy doing what I describe. In fact, I long for more pictures of his determined face.
Like a sketch artist drawing from a memory, the image below is the re-enactment of what I remember. And I remember it so well. Sometimes the things we think so odd, so out-of-place as children, are the ones that stick with us the most. This will stick with me until my dying day.
My daddy’s unexpected example of never giving up has carried me through the most important crossroads of my life. Is there a moment like this that informs how you react?
A special thanks to Ron for his willingness to re-capture what has been living inside my head. Now I have two mower-on-rope moments to pull me back up the ledge.
I chose to post the image in black and white to capture a bit of the nostalgia I feel, Circa 1996
