Mowing is no longer mundane

When it comes to spiritual practices, each of us finds a restorative connection with the Holy Spirit in different ways. Some find the special mind, heart, faith balance through the meditative practices of contemplation anchored in the writings of Thomas Merton or Thich Naht Hanh. I, too, often immerse myself and find healing solace in retrospective, and introspective, reading — and writing. Slowing down and pushing away the troubles of the day opens channels for the Spirit to touch the places we forget to care for otherwise.

              But sometimes the practices that foster the deep manifestation of the Spirit are difficult to sustain, especially amid the turmoil of the world in which we occupy. There is certainly enough to damage the human psyche found any day on the news. When we find our go-to spiritual practices aren’t enough to provide that calm, that is when we need to open ourselves to the mundane tasks in life that can be a practice without us even realizing it.

              My most effective spiritual practice comes far apart from the quiet realm of meditation. It manifests through the sanctuary of creation on the seat of a John Deere zero turn lawnmower. Unusual perhaps, but in fact, on a different mower in 2014, I received my most direct communication from God regarding the direction my ministry should take. Stuck in the mud, with tears of frustration falling with the rain, allowed myself to be in the moment. It was then I heard a voice speak to my soul, reminding me that the rain would stop. The mud will dry up. The grass will grow back covering the deep ruts I made in the lawn. If Creation can heal when we give it the care it needs, so can the bruised human spirit be restored to its full vitality if we slow down and tend to our spirits.

              Since then, I look forward to my meditation mowing. From the seat of my riding mower, wearing noise cancelling headphones, I feel God come alongside for the ride. My spiritual practice may seem like only mundane work to some, but I can create, with intention, special beauty in the grass that the Creator has given to us. In the sun and incredible blue of the skies, I feel God all around me. When I let that “Deere” run full speed the breezes blow back my short highlighted — and graying — hair. Tiny pieces of grass pellet my cheeks and I never feel more alive or balanced in my relationship with God than in that moment. I am awed at the beauty and blessing of the ground that the Lord has leased to my care while I am here. Mowing the grass gives me satisfaction at the completion of an achievable goal. It is not a chore; it is a privilege. And it restores me spiritually, emotionally and physically.

              If you are a country dweller, you know that appreciating and caring for the biosphere, treasuring its non-human elements, are essential to your life balance ratio. While you may enjoy the occasional visit to the bustling crowds of the metropolitan life, the excitement can wain and you feel a longing for the simplicity of nature. If you are more of a city dweller, you may go out on occasion into the country to drink in the peace and find solace there. Just as each of us is different, no one spiritual practice works for all. Perhaps mine will work for you as well. Find a lawn to mow and see for yourself.

Christine Burns is a commissioned ruling elder serving Galion First Presbyterian Chapel of Hope and Peace in Galion, Ohio. When not preaching and teaching, she enjoys writing liturgy — and, of course, mowing grass.