Frank Burns was on to
something. In a moment of patriotism,
the hapless, wound-to-tight, brunt of MASH camp pranks, announced that he had
figured out the meaning of the whole war – lawnmowers. He explained to his smirking buddies that he
realized that they were fighting the Korean war for the “American Dream” – the God
given right to pursue one’s own dreams.
In his sweet, albeit elitist, view, every American wanted and rightly
should fight for the freedom to have his own home complete with a two car garage,
two great kids, and his very own lawnmower.
The memory of the look and smell of freshly cut grass was his anchor for
making sense of the war.
I agree. There is something wonderful and deeply
satisfying about mowing your own lawn, but I think there’s more to it than
simple pride in ownership or competition with the neighbors. I believe the joy rises from a place that
transcends routine maintenance. It is
not only the reason we take care of our lawns and homes, but it is also why we
work hard at our jobs. It is what drives
us to put our own preferences or wishes aside in favor of this one thing. We sacrifice for it. We devote most of our time and energy for
it. It is the reason that the “special
moments” are so special and a simple, everyday event can suddenly become unforgettable.
It’s why I get those - lump in my
throat, chills down my spine – frissons, usually without warning. Thunderstruck. Over
what, you ask? Consider these examples in no particular
order, chosen from oh, about a million or so:
A single yellow rose extended
with a smile, a tear, and “You’re going to be a Daddy!”
A onesie pulled from a faux
birthday bag with, “Mama and Daddy, we’re having a girl -
Audrey Faye!”
“The LSU School of Dentistry is
pleased to inform you of your acceptance into our …”
“Yes, I’d love to go to a
sweetheart banquet with you.”
“Daddy’s taking us to Diiisney
Wo-orld, Diiisney Wo-orld, Diiisney Wo-orld…” – once as little girls and
then again at 20 something.
Tiger Stadium – ‘nuff said.
Tiger Band – ‘nuff said.
Our first baby’s first breath.
“Dr. Steve, can I talk to you
about marrying…?” – twice!
King cake baby on a cupcake? – “Because
there’s a real baby coming!”
“Thank you, Daddy.” –spoken
with wedding-gown eyes – twice!
My grandson’s new-born head
smells like cookies too.
“Daddy, I want Jesus in my
heart.” - twice!
"Stephen, you may now kiss your bride." - once!
Back seat duets
Son-in-law golf
I think you've got it - Love. Family Love. God’s Love.
Nothing else comes close. All the
trappings of this world are as tasteless and as much fun as chewing on cardboard
without it. But with the love of family,
everything has meaning, everything matters.
Now that both our girls have a child, a whole new perspective on all
this has opened up for us, and them. So,
thank you, Jack. Thank you, Audrey. Thank you, Lord. I’m beginning to understand why the “old”
folks put so much stock in getting the family together. I find myself now thinking more and more of
the next opportunity we'll have to all be together. I can’t wait for the next time when I’ll be
able to hold in my hands, and smell heads, and read to, and tickle, and feed,
and whisper secrets to – all of our kids – grand, in-law, and actual. Let’s do it soon, OK? I’ll have the grass mowed when you get here.
