Tuesdays in Time

Tuesdays are the best thing ever right now. Why, you ask. Tuesdays are an ordinary day in which many bad things could possibly happen. But you have probably not managed to persuade a really sensible, no nonesense, interesting and clever young woman to come ride herd on your children from noon to four, for a way small amount of money. She breezes in, cool as a summer breeze, precisely at noon, and then Matt and I fling ourselves into a crazed search for computer cords, books, papers, pencils, ipad key board, wallet and keys and hustle ourselves into the car and go AWAY, away, away, for four whole hours. We go to an extremely cold coffee shop in downtown Bing with a plentiful number of outlets and really gorgeous coffee and panini. We take sweaters and wear socks. This last Tuesday Matt wore his expensive long underwear. We settle in and I feel guilty, for a minute or two, until I'm brought a tall Cafe Mocha, and then I just relax into all my bits and pieces of paper and schedules and work that I am always struggling to do at home, but which, in this nice calm quiet coffee shop, with Matt wildly typing across from me, seem like a real pleasure. He sits and writes a whole sermon. I talk to people on facebook and think I'm going to blog, but really just redo my lists and sit and look out the window.

And then we go home. Our savior escapes to her real life and I wander out into the garden. Every few minutes, I like to wander out and check on things.

Here is this horrid evil weed that I am tearing out everywhere all the time.

It looks so small and meaningless. But it is evil. It grows huge. It covers over my sometimes walk up the hill. Look how ghastly and huge it grows to be.

but when you get up close you realize that it is a mess of weeds and evil. As I wildly pull up this particular weed I always wish I hated sin as much as I hate this weed. But who am I kidding. I don't. I tolerate its presence in my life just fine.

Anyway, enough of that. Here is my Curry Plant. It smells so amazing.

And here is my glorious amazing regular thyme.

Basil.

Mint.

Sage.

Lemon Thyme.

All these are in the cinderblocks that hold up Elphine's little garden. She has some flowers. And see the horrible weed! I should stop typing and go tear it out, before going on a moment more.

I weed her garden every day, compulsively. She comes out and gazes at it and wanders away, happy. I feel that maybe its like me and God. He tears out the junk, he brings the rain and makes it grow. I look around happily and claim all the credit.

From Elphine's patch I turn back towards the house and see that some child has arranged the lawn furniture. There seems to to be a place for an audiance, and for two small people to sit at this table.

Turning again you can see my amazing Yarrow. I won't lie, I put a funky filter on this picture. I just thought it was cool with the fence and everything.

Camomile.

An out of focus tiny pepper.

On my way in I collect a sample from my ailing rose.

I covered the roots in banana peels and I think it might be doing slightly better. But, someone should tell me what is really wrong.

After destroying twenty or so wicked irridecsent Japanese Beetles, I make my way back inside. The work, the hard hard ordinary work of meals and church and laundry is there, day after day. But its a view that's totally worth it. The intense but broken gaze. The face and soul that has weathered many long nights and cares and worries, many mornings of study and toil, many hours in the pulpit imploring the few, the sinful, to turn to Jesus and be saved.

Tuesdays are really the best possible day.