I am grateful for two blisters and some sore muscles that talk to me when I squeeze or grab.

I am grateful for therapeutic weeding. It had been too long. Of course it had. Weeding is not fun. Weeding is work. If it hadn’t been too long, it wouldn’t have been necessary.

But while I bent over and scraped the ground with the hoe, yanking the stubborn ones and carefully protecting the day lilies and renegade tomato plants, I was able to listen to the laughter coming from the pool next door and reminisce about my girls splashing and playing “sharks and minnows” at the pool when they were young. I was able to silently pray for Sharon and Brenda and Warren and Meredith, our New York and Pennsylvania pastors. I was able to release some hidden frustrations that had been weighing on my mind.

Weeding for me is like cleaning the shower. Not fun. It is the last thing I want to do. But when it doesn’t get done, it just gets worse. And this was close to worst. There was no longer any dirt space to be seen between the desired plants. Ugh.

I secretly hoped Sam or Dad would show up and offer to take over. They didn’t. I secretly wanted to “Round Up” the entire area instead of laboring with gardening tools. Who needs day lilies and tomato plants anyway? I secretly longed for an evening to just relax and enjoy instead of having to work and be productive.

Those thoughts and secrets could have ruined a perfectly nice evening. It was refreshing and cool for a June early evening. The lightning bugs were emerging from their darkness and blinking beauty across the yard. Even after so much rain, the mosquitoes had not yet arrived in droves and bug spray was not necessary. Natia was enjoying rolling in the grass and smelling the fresh air. And even though I was working, I was also being serenaded by laughter and fun next door.

I had to stop after a dozen repetitions – I am not used to physical labor these days. But stopping allowed me to regain momentum and continue on, just one more lily and then I’ll quit. Just one more surprise tomato plant previously hidden by the weeds and then I’ll quit. Just five more minutes and then I’ll quit. When that family goes home from the pool, I’ll be done, too…

In the end, it was two blisters and some tiny pebbles that found their way in between my feet and my shoes that caused me to say “enough for tonight.”

Therapeutic = Culling the unwanted, the unnecessary, the things that hinder new growth and beauty. It is usually hard work and sometimes comes with pain. But as long as culling is done with an appreciation for the opportunity and the “weeder” chooses to value the moment and the necessity, the blisters and sore muscles are worth it.