Mom calls with a suggestion (a challenge?). "You know, they offer classes through the UNL extension office, so you can become a master gardener."
I'm trying to unload the dishwasher and cook some mac for Nora while rifling through my internal "to-do" list for the day. "Oh, yeah? Hmmm."
Now Mom is going to the website and she's reading the information to me--ALL the information, including special notices for people who live in other counties--counties we don't live in. Mom is VERY thorough when it comes to covering all the details. It's obvious that she's excited about getting me involved in these classes because she "thinks [I] would really love this."
"Well, if you send me a link, I'll look it up."
"I just can't seem to find when or where the classes are taking place."
Nora starts pulling on my pant leg, the water is boiling and I'm holding all eight of our plates. I'm imagining what a "master gardener" looks like. Pretty nerdy, to be honest. Or maybe I've got the wrong idea. Maybe once you become a master gardener, purslane and crab grass and bindweed respect you and your "comfort zones." You don't even need to pull them or spray them with anything. They just know you're a master gardener and take their party elsewhere. For some reason in my mind, I'm wearing a tall pointed hat, like a wizard, and I carry a hoe instead of a staff. When I walk into the garden, I understand what the toads are saying. Mosquitos respect me. Grasshoppers stop eating my broccoli.
And I'm kind of liking this idea now... The power. I need master gardener power. And then she says it: "And who knows who you'll meet there."
"Wait. What, Mom?" I honestly wasn't even thinking about that.
"I don't know, Lisa. I just think you might need to start doing a few things for yourself."
Hmmm...but what is that? I mean, moms feel like their children are an extension of themselves, so getting up in the middle of the night several times to get a cup of cold water for your kid is like getting yourself a cup of cold water...at 3 AM...when you're sleeping...and not at all thirsty.
Okay. I'll admit I'm a bit ...fatigued...cranky...lackluster... I know I'm not living in a state of hope right now. I understand that. I understand that I'm simply doing what it takes to make it through the day because the day is full of sufficient worries. I take Jesus seriously when He says not to worry about tomorrow because if tomorrow is as full as today was, then I'm going back to bed. Or...getting out of bed. I don't even know when I'm supposed to be asleep, to be honest. I am a mom, a woman carrying an invisible, blinking, neon sign that says "Open 24 Hours!"
I am a working mom.
And don't get me wrong. You know I love this girl and this job. You know I love this life, these blessings. But maybe all this work and worry ends with a point like the kind you find at the top of a master gardener's hat. And maybe I've been picking up all the wrong crap to carry around, the kind you can't fertilize with. And, folks. that's my sack of (shut your mouth) I'm talking about, the one I carry around because it helps me feel sorry for myself, helps me make excuses for not doing things I'm scared of doing (writing, going out, singing a song I wrote, living in JOY.)
Uh!!!!!!! I'm so tired of that other lie: Life is hard.
Get lost, liar. I've been born into that other life, and I'm not worried because it's not mine to defend. If it were, I'd be screwed. I know the real Master Gardener and He knows how my garden grows.