The Parable of the Lawn Mowers

We have two lawn mowers. One is new. It’s a Honda we picked up at The Home Depot just before moving into our new house. It’s nice with a wide deck, and it’s self-propelled. The other lawn mower is old. I think it’s a Toro or something. We picked it up at a yard sale for twenty bucks several years ago. Sure, it runs great, has never let us down. But it’s a push mower, propelled only by your own blood, sweat, and tears.

Our lawn is just over 1/3rd of an acre, big by not enormous. My husband and I split the lawn mowing responsibilities; he mows the front lawn while I mow the back. Because the back lawn is situated on a slope, and because I am of the fairer sex, I get to use the nice mower, the Honda, while hubby slugs away with the Toro.

Once, a few weeks ago, I decided to let my husband off the hook and trade him mowers. I felt bad that he always had to use the old mower, and wanted to give him a chance to use the new one. So I took the Toro into the back yard and let him feel the power and ease the Honda offered. I eased the mower out onto the lawn, thinking to myself, this isn’t so bad. Actually, at first, I thought it was a little easier than using the Honda because sometimes the Honda with it’s self-propelled motor, can get away from me, like it has a mind if its own. The little Toro did only what I asked.

And then I began to mow the upward side of the sloping back yard. Yikes. I pushed, I grunted, I sweat until my eyes burned. My shirt was drenched, my makeup melted, my back almost too tired to continue.

Forty-minutes into my ordeal, my husband came to find me in the backyard. He had finished the front yard in record time. “Honey, why don’t you let me finish?” he asked with sincerity.

“No . . . I can . . . do this . . .” I wheezed.

“Well then, at least finish up with the Honda.” He took the Toro back to the garage and brought me the Honda with its self-propelled magic instead.

I felt defeated. I felt like I had somehow given up. Somewhere deep inside of me I wanted to prove to my husband that I was tough enough to push that old mower up the slope of the lawn. But as I finished up, I had to admit that I had needed the help all along.

What lesson did I learn from the lawn mowers? I learned that there are times when we have reached the limit of our capabilities and we must ask for help, or at the very least accept the help we’re offered. It’s not cheating. It’s not giving up. We are human. We are fallible. And there are times that, without help, we will fail.

I feel this way often in motherhood. I find myself thinking, If I were a good mother I could _______ (fill in the blank). But it's just not so. A good mother would be aware of the needs of her family, understand her limitations, and ask for help to make up the difference.

We may be strong, but there are times when even the strength of the strongest is simply not enough. And we need to know that it’s always okay to ask for help.

And, in the end, to make a long story short, let's just say that I will not be using the Toro to mow the backyard again.