Yard of the Month

In an effort to encourage homeowners in our community to create and maintain pleasing home exteriors, every 30 days our homeowners’ association representatives tour the streets of our subdivision and award one home the coveted “Yard of the Month” sign.  This artfully-stenciled sign magically appears in your front lawn and resides there all month, advising passers-by that your decorating and landscaping efforts are worthy of commendation.

One of the most surprising and puzzling things that has happened in my recent memory unfolded on one dark and drizzling evening in December.   I arrived home … and discovered said sign proudly ensconced in front of my dining room window.  My first thought was certainly not “Yesss!”  or “Thank You for finally recognizing my heroic horticultural efforts.”  No, after focusing the beams of my car’s headlights on the strange new object erected in the middle of my yard, my first coherent thought was …“This is a joke —right?”  

Days later I remained completely flummoxed, and deeply suspicious that this award was in fact a veiled attempt at derision and/or shaming. It never occurred to me that such an honor would EVER be bestowed upon MY humble abode.   

You see, our neighborhood contains the same ambitious residents that your neighborhood probably does: (1) The over-achieving retired school teacher whose lawn is lovingly mowed twice a week and sports no weeds or bald patches. Whose Christmas light extravaganza is based upon a proprietary algorithm of vectors and tangents and architectural concepts so esoteric that mere mortals can’t begin to grasp its complexity; (2) The sophisticated couple who — unlike the rest of us — were fortunate enough not to lose their lovely oak trees during that year of unrelenting hurricanes. Whose beautiful, stately trees have been suavely enrobed around the base with lush ferns, picturesque ivy, and strategic lighting; and  (3) The Mr. Mom guy who lives three doors down from me and each day supervises his cavorting preschoolers in their healthy outdoor play time while he simultaneously tends his manicured front lawn. The lush lawn that is festooned with a dizzying array of multiple free-form flowerbeds, each encompassed with concentric borders of different-colored, sparkly gravel and mosaic pieces (with mirrors!) placed in artistic designs.  After each hard rain — practically every day in summer — one sees him patiently placing each disarranged particle back into its assigned spot.  (I hate him.)  (Okay, I really don’t hate him.  You know I love him with the love of the Lord, but you have to admit that mirrors and mosaics in your lawn are just a little bit over the top.)

MY yard, on the other hand, … is a yard.  I would not be so bold as to refer to its covering as “lawn.”  I do have a rather spectacular flowering shrub thriving in the brick base of my curb-side mail box stand, but the  few living shrubs we do have in our front yard are huddled together in a straight line: a tangled, unattractive mess tenaciously clinging to life long after the sister tier of shrubbery closest to the house’s exterior succumbed to the toxic chemicals pumped under the foundation to murder the termites that were determinedly devouring our home.  Under the kitchen window, two moth-eaten azaleas make a half-hearted stab at flowering each spring, only to be buzz-cut down to the twigs by our overzealous lawn maintenance professionals who fail to understand that pretty pink flowers are the entire point of having azaleas in the first place. 

So, having no time or inclination to garden during Florida’s standard 9 -month climate of 90 degree temperature/90% humidity, my exterior foliage exists entirely on a “survival of the fittest” basis.  No sprinkler system or monthly visit from the lawn chemical truck. No weeds are plucked.  No flowers bloom.  Fire ants busily construct fortresses from which they can sortie to pounce on the unwary.  The 3-foot diameter divot occasioned by the removal of the root system of our hurricane-damaged maple tree remains as a hazard to the ankles of folks impolite enough to trek through the yard instead of utilizing the front walk.  Watering happens when it rains.  What flowerbed mulch we did have is long gone --- washed away in the hurricane season of 10 years ago and never replaced.  When finishing off the job each week, the lawn guys patiently rake all of our (mulch-less) dirt into pleasant designs.  Perhaps it is this, rather than the neighbors’ tedious display of flower overload, that attracted the attention of the association judges.  They must have assumed we were demonstrating a Zen gardening technique.  That we were proffering a spare, Asian-like minimalistic vibe. Yes, that’s it.  I’m sure of it.  

But seriously, why did we receive acclaim when we feel we did not deserve it?  The mystery remains.  We still feel unworthy.

Pondering this event, it came to me that receiving an award you feel you don’t deserve is like learning that you are a recipient of God’s grace--- His unmerited favor freely given out of His great love, and not based at all on your own efforts.   Comprehending His sacrifice and unconditional love for you, you feel unworthy and begin to mentally catalogue all the reasons you do not deserve to be happy or loved or forgiven. You have failed to water your soul with prayer and communion with God. You have not plucked out the weeds of sin in your life. 

Things are not blooming in your life.

But they can be. The blessing of grace is for you. (Ephesians 2:4-10) His Word says we are his “masterpiece.” Repeat:  a Masterpiece!  So you get to have the sign!  You are “Person of the Month.”  Nay, you are the “Person of Eternity.”  Just accepting His sacrifice and grace brings peace and joy.  … And you don’t even have to rake your dirt or fix your mosaics first.  No matter how parched, patchy, and weedy you are, no matter if your pretty pink flowers have been lopped off by some inept or uncaring person, the grace of God is there for you. When you turn to God, you will be “like a watered garden.” (Jeremiah 31:12.)  

Accept your award and be God’s “Yard of the Month”!  You are his Masterpiece.  You matter. 

One of my favorite quotes from the past few years is: “Endeavor to be the kind of person your dog thinks you are.”  I can add to that: “Be the front yard that your Yard of the Month sign says that you are!”  So draw close to God ... and plant some pink flowers!

Do you feel Joy-less because you feel unworthy?

Now being aware of God’s grace, can you accept Him and receive Joy?