I was having a quiet moment the other day seated by the fireplace and enjoying the shelter from what turned out to be a very blustery day. As the wind whipped and yelped outside I noticed a flock of leaves moving purposefully in the air toward my neighbor's yard. That made me very happy. Evidently God had better ideas for the use of my time than raking and bagging the deciduous remains from our row of ancient Cottonwood trees.
I have always lobbied pretty hard against raking. I think I read somewhere that someone said something about leaves providing a pleasant mulch for your yard. And because I have such a strong respect for the authority of the anonymous and ubiquitous "They said" folks, I have attached my natural disdain for this annual autumnal task to the wisdom represented by "them". I thus have a scientific botanical platform from which to form my non-raking philosophy. God firing up His leaf-blower seemed like an affirmation.
I also have made my peace with dandelions. Leaf -raking is the final task 
of yard chores for the summer. Dandelions are, for many people, the first business of spring - except for me. Rather than spreading poison, or worse yet, getting down on my knees with a little dandelion fork and digging them up - I treat dandelions with the gentle respect and admiration they deserve. These little yellow-headed prognosticators announce that the long winter has passed and that all shall be well. They summon the honey-bees. Nature is re-born once again.
I have a neighbor whose yard looks like astro-turf. It is a family sickness. The whole lot of them go to war each year with dandelion forks, rakes, pesticides and such. They even bag their lawn-clippings. For a brief period in my life I experienced "lawn-envy." I got past it. I like our yard. I like watching my wife bring to life crazy flower gardens that bespeak Edenic beauty. I like our Aspen trees that have stood up to both blizzards and hungry deer and which carry the scars of their desperate ravaging. I like to imagine that my neighbors say bad things about the guy who allows dandelions to grow unfettered and disgorge thousands - perhaps millions - of their tiny offspring to find temporary shelter in their overly manicured yards.
For the cynical reader, you might be saying right now, "He has just given us four paragraphs to justify not raking leaves and not tending to the eradication of dandelions. He is just lazy." Perhaps. But, on the other hand, I prefer to think of it as a sign of spiritual growth that reflects the helpful platitude: "Don't sweat the small things."
For many years and over many issues I did sweat the small things. I am not even sure where the Obsessive-Compulsive behavior originated. All I know is that I have spent many hours of my life making sure: that every drawer in the house was pushed all the way in; that all the dishes were clean and put away before bedtime; that my work-space was immaculate; that any drinking glass that was set down anywhere in the house was "out of place" and needed to be whisked away to the dishwasher, etc. (The glass thing REALLY annoyed my family and friends who would turn around to reach for their refreshment and find it unceremoniously dumped and ready for a ride in the dishwasher). When my family and I watched the movie "As Good As It Gets", where Jack Nicholson played the role of a guy with OCD, I heard them snickering and pointing at me. From my point of view, carrying one's own eating utensils to a restaurant didn't seem that over the top to me. I have seen the help and could well imagine the multitudinous and nefarious tongues that had passed over the silverware prior to it being placed beside my plate.
Without the help of Sigmund Freud or Carl Rogers, God slowly but gently pulled me to a place where I began to reflect upon this constant buzz within me to set the world in order. What was it about? Was it shame? Was it fear? Was it control? God didn't seem all that interested in leading me to that sort of in-depth analysis. His purpose was more direct and more simple: "Son, learn to rest. Learn my rhythms. Learn of me."
He reminded me of the sister Martha that he loved so dearly but for whom He had a gentle word of correction, "Martha, Martha - you are concerned about so many trivial things - but you have missed the point. I am the point. Take a load off and settle down like your sister Mary here and hang out with me for a bit."
Wow. That kind of advice would cost you $150 per hour from a trained psychiatrist. Jesus gave it to us for free. "Calm down. Relax. You are not God. Ultimately - you cannot control anything. Let it go. Enter my rest, my yoke. My burden is easy. I've got the raking covered. I dig dandelions. They look so lovely against the green grass. I'll be God and you be you. Trust me - it works."
-CJ
