I have a very fickle lawn mower. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. I can always count on it not working at the beginning of the mowing season. I'm almost convinced that for a piece of machinery, it is highly intelligent and vindictive. We would get rid of it, but I'm frugal and stubborn. Pure madness, I know!
Typically the first day of mowing looks something like this: I run around getting my clothes changed, find the hiding lawn mower key, locate a pair of ear plugs that doesn't look too used, shove on my old shoes and head for the garden shed. Then one of the kids needs a drink or a band aid and I get diverted back to the house for ten more minutes. While I'm in the house, the phone rings and I answer it. After the phone conversation ends the dryer timer goes off. Being obsessed with efficiency, I fold the clothes and load it up again. Oh yeah, the lawn. The shoes go back on and I make a break for the shed, open the door and stare down the Mean-Green-Sometimes-Running-Machine. It looks harmless enough, but I know that something will go wrong. I sit down gingerly, adjust all knobs and levers and turn the key. This is usually where it gets interesting. If I'm lucky and it starts I will roll out of the shed only to discover that a tire is flat and I've run it off the wheel, requiring a trip to Les Schwab to have it remounted. Usually, though, I never get that far. Sometimes it's simply out of gas. Of course, there is no gas in the gas can, meaning a trip to the gas station. Other times, the battery is dead. If we are lucky it just needs a charge. If I'm really desperate to mow, I'll need an entirely new battery -- that would be a trip to the auto parts store. Last year it was a lot more dramatic. Mice had decided that the cooling system was a dandy place to set up home. As the lawn mower heated up the engine would begin to sputter and then die. To make it more exciting for me, there were the actual scorched mice dropping out of the engine casing and running around by my feet on the mower deck. Needless to say I approach the maiden mowing voyage every spring as I would a major battle.
So, I panicked a bit when Marc's brother, Tim, called and said he wanted to help us out by mowing this weekend. While I was excited to have help, I was feeling really guilty. I tried to help him to understand exactly what he was getting into. He wasn't swayed. I continued with my disclaimers, feeling horribly anxious over the idea of anyone having to be subject to our creepy lawn mower. He insisted, and I submitted.
By all accounts I shouldn't have been worried. Marc and Dave had worked on the mower the weekend before. The lawn mower blades were sharpened and not bent. The engine had been cleaned and serviced. No mice to be seen. A shining new battery was installed during the week. Tim even brought his own tank of gas -- not necessary, but a nice touch. I actually thought the the first mowing might actually come off without a hitch. After a quick lesson on all knobs and levers, Tim was off like a pro. I was impressed and a bit envious. That didn't last for long, though. Before he had gone one lap around the yard he had a flat tire, and yup....it ran off the rim. The guys quickly jacked it up and whipped off the wheel. Being the sweet brother that he is, Tim decided he wanted to take it to Schwab (more guilt pangs). He returned about two hours later with the fixed tire and an education on local Estacada culture. After a quick remount, he was off and finished the job like a champ.
Accepting help has been the hardest part of our trial. Marc's cancer is no picnic, but humbling ourselves to accept help has been brutal. Our pride has certainly taken a hit. We have always loved serving -- it's fun and we always find tremendous blessing in helping others. Turn the tables around and it isn't so much fun. Add to that the complications of helping us -- quirky lawnmowers, multiple kids and their schedules, large livestock, etc. -- and we become the difficult people to help. We realize that helping us takes an extra amount of effort, patience, and time. This makes the experience all the more humbling. It also makes us so much more grateful. The fact that so many of you have chosen to help us, despite the complications and frustrations, has touched us tremendously. We realize we are in a marathon and we have to accept help as it is offered or we will burn out. We just look forward to the day we can be of help to all of you!
And, Tim, thank you for insisting on helping us. Your willingness to sacrifice your time and energy to mow for us is really appreciated. You are my hero for suffering the maiden mower voyage of 2009. Your patience with the whole situation was admirable and encouraging. Thank you for sharing our burden and tolerating our fickle lawnmower. I'm glad it's not just me! You certainly earned your stripes this weekend. You were a great sport! Thank you!
On another note, I wanted to thank you all for your prayers and concern for Marc and me over the weekend. His last treatment was really tough physically and emotionally. He rebounded really fast, though. I apologize for not updating you all sooner on his progress, but the sun actually came out this weekend and being Oregonians found it impossible to be inside. We soaked up as much sunlight as we could! I'm happy to report that his pain is minimal, his energy is back, and he is feeling pretty good. We are encouraged by all of this and look forward to having a week of feeling "normal."
Here are some fun shots of our weekend....We had fun :) It was great to be distracted and enjoy the sunny outdoors....
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