Despite lack of rain, the weeds have flourished in our back yard. Leary of spreading killer lest a weed-eating pup get sick again, we’ve opted to pull. Rarely rising to the top of our to-do list, the prolific green machines have started to take over.

Weed rocks

Not to mention a pile of rocks recently retrieved from the bottom of the pool (after they “threw themselves in”!) has started acting like a beacon directing attention their way.

And it rained. I could barely believe it when I heard thunder and pelts on our roof. Not only was it wonderful in all its wetness, the front broke our consecutive hundred degree streak. We’re destined to break records for the hottest summer, but the repreive was amazing. Everyone ran for their yards, patio dining areas, parks, you name it – just to enjoy the outdoors for a moment.

With the ground wet and the temperatures in the 90’s, we decided to hit our pesky friends hard. Pull those annoying patches so we can enjoy the view.

Everyone knows the first rule in pulling weeds is get them by the root. Everyone also knows, that’s impossible. No matter how hard you try, a few inevitably break. When it does, you know the weed will be back with a vengeance in a matter of weeks. In order to avoid regrowth, it’s easy to spot hit with weed killer.

As I pulled, relishing each “plant” that slipped easily, root-intact, from the ground, I couldn’t help but think about my kids … and me. The weeds reminded me so much of sin and struggles and my role in removing and killing the prolific invaders.

I tend the garden. Plant annuals, perennials, legumes, fruit … then hit the unwanted weeds when I see them. Among the successes, I not only miss a few but break some at the root. Then I grow weary of the hard, tedious job and tap into some landscaping assistance. Youth leaders, teachers, coaches step in to cultivate. It sure is nice having the help. Sometimes they catch things I don’t see, or have become numb to. So it’s good. … Until I let them take over my yard duties. It’s just so convenient. And they’re professionals.

As I sat there in my pile of rocks, I thought about how we really do just that … with the greatest of intentions. But truth be told, youth leaders, coaches, teachers come and go. They aren’t the parents. They aren’t family. They’re wonderful. Grateful doesn’t come close to the feelings I have for the youth leaders, coaches and teachers in our kids lives. But I need to be careful resting in their efforts. I need to do a gut check and be careful and resist putting parenting responsibilities on their plates.

So much for my weird weed thought of the day.

Thanks for walking the road with me.


Some are gone. Some are broken, destined to return.

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