As I am sure you can tell by the weedless paths and the sheer awesomeness that this garden boasts…it is most definitely not mine. I have driven past this garden at least three days a week for three and a half years and man…it gets me every time. I love this garden. It’s flawless…as far as I am concerned. 
I see the older gentleman working in it and I long to be retired and have the ability to …well…do what he does. I don’t know him personally. I actually just stepped majorly out of my comfort zone and pulled in his driveway when I saw him working this evening. I asked if I could take a picture of the garden that I have admired for so long. He seemed very shy, but the smile on his face told me he was pleased that someone enjoyed his work. 
After dwelling on the fact that I so wished to be this man, well…I guess more or less have the time this gentleman has, I realized that for now I am right where God needs me. Being a wife and being a mother to three ever growing children. That means that the fruits of my labor are not from a garden, orchard or animal. The fruits of my labor stand before me in ever inquisitive children searching for more of Him. In supporting my husband to be the best father, leader, and provider for our family. God was so sweet in bringing me to the realization that it’s okay not to be the mom who has it all figured out, I am far from it actually. To not have my gardens perfect. To not be the mom who does it all. By the way….does such a mother exist? ? One day my children will be grown and my season of life will change. But for now, I am going to relish in the season that God has for me at this moment. A season of holding a sick baby instead of doing the dishes. A season of tea parties instead of weeding the garden. And a season of loving my family well at the expense of dying to my self-imposed ideas of the “perfect mother.” As chaotic and as baffling as it sometimes is…I love it.