Green Grass & The War Against Pride

When Sterling and I built our new home, we picked the biggest, flattest lot in our neighborhood. I grew up with a big yard and it was perfect for soccer, football, field hockey and even the odd neighborhood baseball game (miraculously, no windows were broken!).  One of my biggest priorities was having a yard that would enable my kid(s) to replicate those same experiences. We even negotiated with our builder to include a backyard lawn in our sale.

Having a lawn is a lot of work. I should clarify: having a nice lawn that can handle little feet stomping back and forth, kicking a ball around is hard work. I have a moral dilemma any time I turn a sprinkler on. Water is such a precious resource and I’m using it for a green, invasive weed!?

But the memories that can be made! Plus we are looking at ways to implement water conservation practices.

I digress.

Those who know me well, know this backyard lawn has been the bane of my existence. We waited until the dry summer came to an end before seeding our first attempt at the lawn. It failed miserably despite much wasted water.

The second overseeding also failed.

Before I threw more water and time at the failed backyard, I consulted with the neighborhood grass specialist and he wisely recommended pouring lots of sand over the existing ‘lawn’ to start anew.

So we did. We buried that terrible excuse for a ‘lawn’ with two dump trucks full of beautiful sand. After working furiously to spread it all in the span of eight hours (so we could capitalize on the forecasted rain the next day), we joked that if our lawn didn’t work out, at least we’d have a nice beach.

It’s been two weeks and I’m pleased to say our lawn is starting to materialize.

As I’ve been toiling over this yard with Katie sleeping soundly on my back, I’ve had a lot of time to just think and lately those thoughts have been about pride and perspective.

Our yard is tiered. When I’m on the upper tier, looking down at the grass, I can’t help but notice all the bare patches, cat footprints, thinning spots, water pools...see exhibit A.

Any and every blemish or slight imperfection is so noticeable.

Then when I go down to the bottom of our yard and look up at the grass, all I see is lush, green grass. Our yard looks amazing! Good job little seedlings! I can only see how awesome it is.

The same grass looks so different just from those two perspectives.

It got me thinking about life. About looking at others. When we’re rocking at life, it can be easy to look at others who are struggling and think ‘well, look at those imperfections, of course life’s hard for them’. Or conversely, when things are a struggle, we can look at others and only see how awesome they’re doing. They’re doing so awesome up there, it’ll be impossible to match their awesomeness.

Either way, we’re wrong. When I look at those little grass seedlings up close, I see what they’re really made of. I think they’re perfect. As little as they may be. As far as they may be from the next little seedling. They’re perfect. They’re trying. Reaching for a ray of sun while sending their little roots through the sand to the firm foundation below (thanks clay).

Wherever we may be in life—up on the hill looking down, down below looking up, or somewhere in between, I hope we don’t get too caught up in the whole, skewed picture. Look a little closer. Its potential is perfect.