Recently, my friend Lindsee has been consistently reminding me to “keep my hands to the plow” — to keep my hands on the work in front of me, to keep my eyes on the Lord beside me rather than be distracted by the works going on around me.
And I’ve been failing. But I realized something.
I told her earlier this week that I’ve been hearing her all wrong. Every time she’s said plow, I’ve pictured a lawn mower. I’ve pictured my hands on a gas-powered machine, leveling the ground in front of me. And it’s felt overwhelming and exhausting and quite frankly, impossible, because every other yard looks much more manicured than the unmanageable grass beneath my imagined mower.
And I’ve been distracted and discouraged. It’s really hard to stop comparing manicured lawns.
