Me and P. Diddy

I mourned in the midst of perhaps one of my most enjoyable summer activities - digging. Picture me, my red-handled shovel, my classic I-POD with the leopard print cover, and a Bermuda- and crabgrass-infested flower bed. I'm situated on the wide expanse of lawn in front of our church; that's the Church at Cross Point located on Dill Lane here in the 'Boro if you'd like to drop in this Sunday. (Let's see: thus far we have Bermuda grass and Christ in the hizzat. Here comes the third in the trinity . . . ) My collection of oddly dispersed fat cells is covered by bright blue Nike shorts; one of Jimmy's perfectly acceptable old Bronco t-shirts tops off the ensemble.

It's my gift to the assembly today - landscaping. Two and a half hours of 92 degrees with mild humidity and the sun bearing down on me in a very direct, full-on August summer manner. The brim of my pink camouflage cap is saturated with sweat which continually drips into my eyes. Cars cruise by, coming and going, some with kids yelling, a few with stereos thumping, most with harried housewives or sedate seniors rolling in and out of their little piece of terra firma. The music on my I-POD is the 'Jesus Songs' list. Did I choose it based on my location? I don't believe so, but we can't fully rule out subconscious influences. Lord knows I possess plenty.

Today I start with reclaiming the border - nonexistent. My progress is measured by a series of jumps and yanks on the shovel. To the casual onlooker, I wonder if I resemble a giant spastic blue-and-orange bunny rabbit. It is monotonous and the edge reveals itself sl-o-w-l-y. Thank the Lord for my Valentine's Day gift of two years ago (I wasn't aware I needed an I-POD until it was bestowed upon me) . . . the music encourages me to move along like any good Christian soldier. I'm glad to accomplish a needed task, to provide a service, to burn a pound's worth of calories. Every so often, I belt out the lyrics as I reacquaint myself with God being good all the time and the Alpha, Omega, Beginning and End, Savior, Messiah, Redeemer and Friend.

My patience eventually pays off - all done. At least with the perimeter. What remains for me as the final notes of the last song ebb is a vista of weeds gone wild. The abnormal and plentiful rains of July created an intricate web of matted vines and runners with no clear beginning or end. UGH! I click on a tune which samples heavily from a classic by 'The Police' - 'Every Breath You Take.' It's P'Diddy, Puff Daddy, Sean Combs, just Diddy - take your pick - singing (is that the right word?) 'I'll Be Missing You' - his tribute to the death of fellow rapper and friend, 'The Notorious B.I.G.' I'm not a fan of either dude though Sean worked it out as Walter Lee Jr. in 'Raisin In The Sun.'

The first handful of knotted roots has barely cleared the deck when the tears hit - unexpected. I feel that familiar punch-in-the-gut of grief. Where moments ago both satisfaction and pleasure over a productive day reigned, a resurgence of sorrow for the losses in my life welled and spilled over, literally, onto the red earth below, my tears mingling with beads of perspiration. There before me were Grace and Gabriel, my young niece and infant nephew, shockingly killed and terribly missed. I saw my youngest brother, Gary and the trail of broken and wasted years fanning out behind him, lost to prison, misunderstanding and misdiagnosis, drugs, an overworked legal system. I thought of what my sister, Rebekah, endured, and endures, so unnecessarily due to one-time ignorance on the part of everyone and misfired chemical processes which betrayed the body of a young woman who desired from her earliest years to be a mother, first and foremost. I allow the triple-header of tornadoes, in both physical and emotional forms, which blasted through my life this past spring and summer, to take shape and assume the mourning position.

This collection of woes coalesces, a tense ball of fury and lament, weaving its way in and around the bass line of the song, gathering strength and then lessening in ferocity, backing down, breaking into smaller and smaller parts, until they once again assimilate into the whole of me. I thank the Lord for His gracious company in the midst of these many hardships. I welcome the lessons despite the cost of the learning. He allows me to be a soothing balm to others who grapple with the unexpected blows and cruel knocks of this hapless world. I know He created this opportunity to stir the well within to keep it from bubbling over as it continues to press deeper into the fertile ground of my heart, running over the debris collected in the dark corners, washing clean the wounds of sadness until the the waters run clear.

The clouds drift across the face of the sun. P'Diddy's ditty fades into another selection a bit more upbeat. The moment passes. I am back in the presence of the living, the present, the here and now. Time to step away from the gardening mess and pick up my daughter from school. Everything, and I do mean everything, will be here, waiting for me, for another opening. They'll be missing me.