ART & POETRY BY KATHY BOECHER© (Today I’m sharing one of my watercolors of a lilac bush in full bloom.)

This week was the first time in a while that I’ve felt like doing some work in the garden. The smokey air had dissipated. The dewpoint was tolerable. My tasks included pulling weeds, which requires little skill and being at the right ground level. The best tool I have is an older heavy duty, covered plastic storage container. It’s just the right height for my short legs and I don’t have to bend too much. I’ve been using this device to move around my garden and eliminate the obstinate intruders for a few years. The box finally gave up the ghost on Tuesday. Years of exposure to the elements, age and carrying the weight of me was just too much for it. In a flash, the container caved. I went tumbling to the ground. It wasn’t a huge fall, but enough for me to call it a day.

As usually happens with me, when I injure myself, it takes a few days before I feel the results. Today is the day. I have no physical bruising. I can still move without pain, but I have a stiffness in my left hand which runs up to my shoulder. I will have a proper burial for the box. I’ll say a few words. I’ll apologize for causing its demise. I will use the next few weeks to stay inside. I guess the smoke is expected to return today along with a dangerous heat alert. Good timing.

I’m constantly learning what my limitations are. It takes time to realize I’m no longer 30 years old. I dared to face some obstacles by digging into the weed war but lost the battle. I face roadblocks daily. Sometimes, getting out of bed is a chore. When days are like that – when I feel overwhelmed by the daily routine – when age beckons me to take fewer chances – when I realize I can ask for help – it’s time to turn to my Creator. My prayers today will include those who have so many more problems than I have. I will pray for clear skies and lower temperatures. I will let the weeds run wild. I will ask that God would give me more common sense when it comes to my age.

When I grow weary from the weight of life,

When every step becomes a heavy strife,

There’s no relief, no respite for my load,

The path is filled with obstacles untold,

Each pothole, crag and deep embedded crack,

Becomes too much for this old, weary back,

But God is there at every twist and turn,

To raise me up when troubles start to churn,

To take the weight and soften every sting,

To wash away my tears and make me sing,

He’s with me every step that I will go,

Since Jesus loves me, this I surely know!

THANK YOU, JESUS, FOR ANOTHER DAY!