Christian Living

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There I was, yet again endeavouring to exert some control over nature. I held my sister’s almost decrepit whipper-snipper, planning to make an assault on this piece of bushland I call home. The fuel tank was full and primed, the choke set; even the weather was prepared to accommodate me. Autumn temperatures were mildly warm and the sky was such an intense blue it had been stopping me in mid-stride, compelling me to gaze upwards in childlike admiration. It wasn’t some thin paintbox blue slapped on the heavens like a cheap backdrop for the day – it was a deep, tangible azure that enveloped the mountainous horizon and swelled forwards to meet me.

Unfortunately I had work to do and the peaceful atmosphere was soon forgotten as the 2-stroke motor burst into life. Having had neglected my semblance of a yard for a couple of months, the grass was easily knee-high. Green clumps were topped with fine, straw-coloured stems and dried blades, which quickly wrapped themselves around the whipper-snipper and slowed the rotating parts. Doing this task became a rhythm of snip… pause… untangle… snip a bit further… pause… untangle…

After one of these interruptions I revved the motor again and was aware of a shuddering. I gripped tighter and continued advancing, keen to finish the job. As I sliced through the grass, vibrations jarred me through my hip, which the machine was resting against. I eased back on the throttle trigger, thinking perhaps I had inadvertently revved up to maximum. Still the tremors continued, until I suspected something was wrong with the snipper attachment. I idled the motor and discovered the round cord cover was coming undone, and in it’s open state, was causing the whole attachment to be unbalanced, thus the shudders. Pushing it back on, with a little chuckle to myself, I resumed grass cutting.

Moving into an area of more sparsely growing ‘lawn’ I had to contend with sticks, gum leaves and the rocky ground that characterises my property. Sweeping the whipper-snipper low, it bumped on a rock and instantly the cover fell to the ground, along with the whole cord casing, orange nylon spilling out and unravelling itself. I killed the motor and squatted down for a closer look. Things looked grim; the spring had made a bid for freedom, along with a small metal part that had obviously been hurled into the air from the spinning action of the snipper. This had happened in the past and I knew the painstaking methodical search-and-rescue pattern I needed to adopt in order to spot the parts against the kaleidoscope of dirt, rocks, grass and other organic matter. If only I had ensured the cover was securely attached when I’d stopped before!

With a sigh I searched the immediate terrain before slowly moving into adjacent areas in a growing spiral. As I shuffled bent over, looking intensely while the sun warmed my back, it became apparent to me – this was my life!

How often had I reached a point where my life was unbalanced, things got rough and I held on for dear life? Too busy for God, too many late nights, too much worry and self-absorption – my days quickly becoming centred on my needs, my wants. Sure I made a few quick prayers in desperation, acknowledging my need to be close to God… but always I would rush off to my next activity, paying little heed to the warning signs. The quick-fix prayers weren’t enough and along came an obstacle, which made everything fall apart, leaving me to pick up the pieces.

While I wandered around in the grass, the mild air enclosing me, and stringy-bark trees quietly rustling in the background, I grew thankful that God gave me a message - a thought to meditate upon and apply to my life. We need to be balanced, with God as the centre of our lives- anything less and we won’t function properly.

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Originally published in Record, 2000.

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