“Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” (Matthew 11:29, NIV)
“Can we get the porch furniture out?” my 9-year-old son Gabriel, asked.
He sat on the ground beside me as we pulled weeds.
“Maybe later,” I said. “We’ll see how much of this we get done.”
We worked around our old maple, plucking the unwanted green that pushed up through last year’s mulch. When we were nearly finished, he asked again.
“How about that porch furniture?”
I thought through the day’s must-do’s. We had yardwork. Lots of it. The washing machine was broken and that meant a trip to town to wash towels. I still had to run his brother Isaiah, 8, to baseball practice, and I hoped to trim the rosebushes after we returned.
“If we don’t get to it today, we’ll do it tomorrow.” I said. My husband, Lonny, and the bigger boys were away, and the idea of lugging the wicker furniture out of storage wasn’t appealing. I spied another sapling sprout and stooped to pull it out.
“Why don’t you run to the garage for me?” I asked. “I could use that new pair of gardening gloves. They’re on Dad’s bench.”
Gabriel left for the garage, and I went back to work. He was halfway across the yard when I looked up.
His shoulders sagged. He looked at the ground. There was defeat–not energy and life–in his little-boy steps.
And in that moment, it all made sense.
The porch is our gathering place. It’s where we share ice cream in the evenings. It’s where we read aloud. It’s where the little boys curl on the big chairs or rest on the rockers or press up close to me on the swing. It’s a resting place. A place of connection.
Gabe was asking for attention and time, and I was missing something dear. I left the weeds and met my little guy inside the garage.
“Let’s get the swing,” I said. “You’re right. We need to hang it. If I carry one side, can you carry the other?”
Gabe’s smile stretched straight from his soul.
My son placed the gloves back on the table, and I took his small, warm hand in mine.
Together we walked toward the shed.
Father, how often do I chase chores when You offer something better? Help me to see. Amen.
