Blades of Surrender

I am just sitting down from finishing some yard work outside. What a beautiful past few days we have had here in Minnesota. Sunny, 60's, light breeze. It is the time of year where Midwesterners are optimistic, productive and energized; sucking every breath out of nice weather that we can before heading into the 5 month frozen tundra.

When things in my life aren't really busy I tend to get a bit stir crazy. I finished work relatively early yesterday and attempted to tackle my to-do list. After cleaning out my car (junk drawer), paid my bills, completed my laundry and sent off some emails, I decided I would mow the front yard and enjoy the wonderful weather. Now, I live on Summit Ave. in St. Paul, which for those of you who don't know if a historical street in the city, about 5 miles long that includes the Governor's mansion and the Cathedral. During the late afternoon rush hour the streets, sidewalks and median are filled with respective cars, bikers and runners. To paint a picture it is busy, so I am right in the action with my lawn mower. Now the grass was shin=high, and was clearly in need of a clean trimming. I got around the perimeter a couple of times when I  noticed that the blade kept getting clogged, the mower slowed down and the engine started smoking.

The wheels were too low, and anyone with a green thumb knows that you can't cut that much grass at one time- hence why cutting the grass is a weekly routine, right? My stubbornness kicked in about the third time the engine died and I was determined to finish the job. Naturally, I don't raise the wheels because I wanted the grass to be the same length. I wish I had pictures of the people's faces as they went my our house watching me crank the choke repeatedly, sweating, pushing the mower as hard as I could while thousands of blades of grass were flying all around me. I haven't been a walking mess since the last time I took the 'walk of shame' one Sunday morning in Iowa City. One runner passed me when I had just a small patch left, he stopped and said, " Hey, do you know you can raise the wheels and make your life easier?". Really? Thanks Smartass!

So once I finish mowing I spent another hour raking the dead grass that created a sheet over the whole front yard. 23 mounds of grass I raked. Mounds, not piles. With blistered hands, droplets of sweat clogging up my sunglasses I didn't know if I should scream, laugh or break down crying. Conveniently the 6 o'clock A.A. meeting was starting across the street and the cars began to park in their designated spots in front of our house. In my moment of frustration a fellow member of the program got out of his car and came up to me, laughed and said, "Shit that's a lot of grass! Need any help?". My ego was too big to say yes, but as the man walked down the sidewalk I began laughing hysterically. Here I am in my big ass yard raking 23 mounds of grass  because I wouldn't change the wheel settings.

In that moment, there were a couple of things that happened; I laughed rather than cracked, and I surrendered rather than complied. Thank God for my women's meeting this morning! I was reminded how powerful surrendering is for me.

As an alcoholic, I don't struggle with a drinking disease, I struggle with a thinking disease. If I allow myself free reign, my mind can start running full speed in the wrong direction, I can easily get so caught up in a story of the 'what ifs' and 'why nots'. If I comply to my thoughts, to the story I create or to the insane behaviors my mind intrigues me with- then all bets are off. But if I can stay present, and fully surrender to the moment I am in, then I am able to laugh rather than flip out over some blades of grass.

Surrendering myself is to fully accept myself in whatever situation, predicament, or moment I may be in. I have the ability to now step back from my thoughts, name my emotions and recognize why I am acting the way that I am. A woman today in my meeting shared with the group the way in which she envisions surrendering. She held up her hand, opened her palm and told us that in moments of angst, on the brink of compliance she holds up her hand and gives whatever it is she is feeling to God.

So this afternoon I picked up 23 mounds of grass, bagged them in 8 hefty trash bags, finished mowing the back yard, and swept up the sidewalk.

Today, the neighbors were probably wondering why I was doing yard work with my hand help up in the air...