God Bless the Grass

TwinklingStar

May 31

Meanwhile, back at the cloister, I have been trying to rejuvenate a row of rosebushes. They were choked with weeds and in between them were more roots of invasive bushes the nuns had chopped down. A few days ago, I was working on them during a quiet afternoon. The bluish gray clouds looked as though a skillful painter had made some quick strokes across the sky, and a refreshing pre-rain wind began. It blew back and forth across the grass and every grass blade bowed together.

The first section of rose bushes was comparatively easy. I weeded them and hauled woodchips to spread around them. All the weeds came out easily but I left a few ivy plants in case they wanted to grow artistically over the tops of the woodchips. I feel especially fond of ivy, because it makes me think about Ivy League universities.

To me, the first section of bushes looked nice. But when I started on my next portion of the row, I realized that each stubborn root was hiding another. I would spend an hour trying to hack a bush stump out only to find that there were clusters of even bigger ones. My arms began to tremble and my energy evaporated.

How could I stay motivated to complete this seemingly impossible and endless task? Was the task worth completing? I realized that as I had been digging, I had thrown my extra dirt on the lawn. I had covered portions of the grass next to the strip of garden. Oh no! I thought. I've made it even messier than before. This is stupid. I should just leave this area alone.

Then a song came unbidden into my head. I remembered it from an old CD I used to listen to on visits to my grandparents house.

"God bless the grass That grows through the crack They roll the concrete over it And try to keep it back The concrete gets tired Of what it has to do It breaks and it buckles  And the grass grows through And God bless the grass"

I remember that whole CD was full of songs in minor key that sounded almost like chanting. All the lyrics were full of strange and veiled metaphors and the CD was called something like "Songs of Justice and Power for the People." (I can't remember.) I loved Pete Seeger, and I heard the song enough times to remember that grass is strong. It can grow through cement! I picked up my shovel and began to hack with renewed vigor. The swishing grass and wildflowers in the fields below me seemed to encourage my resolve. There is always a way to find motivation, I've discovered. Sometimes the motivation comes on its own. Who would have guessed the spirit of Pete Seeger would turn up in Austria? Maybe my next encouragement will come from Maria Von Trapp!