Crunchy grass and a ready-to-snap Mama.

My grass is crunchy. I have crunchy, dried up, dying in the August-in-Mississippi heat grass. Yuck. I have watched for the sprinklers to come up and on. Nothing.  In June and early July it wasn't an issue, we had an afternoon shower almost daily. It was lovely. Then it stopped. And nothing. Just crunchy grass.

And so I began to worry but then that became horribly insignificant in light of the very real and very significant health issues affecting my little family. 

But this week as the calendar turned to September and as life calmed down for me a bit, my crunchy grass began to irritate me in ways that you might not understand unless you have lived in the desert for 10 years and desperately want nice soft non-crunchy grass under your feet. So I did what I decided I had to do. I began to drag a hose out and park a manual sprinkler in the yard, set a timer and move the stupid thing to hit a different area.

After several days of no doubt seeing me lug the sprinkler and hose out to the front yard this week, my sweet neighbor sent me a text yesterday -- "Um, Carol, don't you have a sprinkler system?" 

Well, hello, I would have thought so but have you SEEN my crunchy grass????

Sweet neighbor told me where her control box is located and I went barreling out to the garage to move boxes. 

Turns out, we DO in fact have a sprinkler system. One controlled by a box in the small garage that I do not use. And one the previous owners had turned off. The spring grass had overgrown the sprinkler heads in the yard and the straw delivery I had requested the week BEFORE we moved in had covered the ones in my flower beds. 

Now y'all, I know this is a stupid first-world problem. I know that crunchy grass is not the end of the world. And I know I should just pat myself on the back for conserving water or something such as that. But really, I had been dragging that hose all over God's crunchy green earth and I had built-in sprinklers?  Really?

It was almost too much...or maybe the problem is Carol is poised to snap in two pieces like the crunchy grass after two weeks of her trio in college....or maybe the move has gotten to me....or maybe it is post-traumatic-stress after the two hospitalizations this month.

Whatever the reason, I sat down and cried. Like a baby. Dear hubby asked what was wrong, "It is too much," I mumbled. Completely perplexed he assured me the sprinklers were working fine and the yard would be ok.

He is right. The yard will be. And me too. I will be. I am not just yet. I feel like my personality is flat. Not very me. I know it is because I do not have my groove yet in this new city or in this new season. I am at once super proud of my kids and selfishly wanting them to be back in my nest as littles who require my assistance. I am at once surrounded by some of my favorite people in the world and yet not in a rhythm with them yet. And did I mention my grass is crunchy?

Today, sweet Little Red played the Xylophone for chapel at her sweet little school. At her insistence, Mason let us swing by his college and he went to hear her (Yes, bless his heart, he had a morning he could sleep in but instead got up extra early for Cate!). We sat in that little gym as the students proceeded in, with Cate's class as the choir. We sang and prayed and listened to the sweetest prayer requests for children's daddies, friends and fish. And of course, we heard our sweet girl make her musical debut!

As we walked back to the car, Mason and I discussed the beauty of the morning. Just 30 minutes really. Thirty minutes where the world seemed a better place, where hope seemed to fill the future. Where when Chaplain Annie closed with "The Lord be with you," a gym-filled with young children responded, "And also with you." I have to tell you, everything seemed right in the world.

The crunchy grass will be ok. And this Mama will find her groove in this new season of life. And my four kiddos will make their way. And you can count on the fact that I will tell you all about it.

The Lord be with you, dear friends.