Blessing of a Filled Woodshed

Slice of Life: Day 5

Sixteen months ago, our dream of owning a single-family home became a reality. An expensive one, but that is for another time. Our family of five loved our townhouse in Lake Ridge, VA, but the elbow room with three growing girls was diminishing.

With the help and whole-hearted dedication from our realtor – who is now a great friend – we found what we were looking for. And more. Ever read, He Came With the Couch? Well, our house came with a pool. Being older, it quickly consumed all of our money. But with the pandemic causing us to miss out on seeing friends and family, it was an absolute blessing to hang out with people we had not seen in a long time. It also came with a decent-sized yard – something I wanted because I enjoy yard work; planting seeds and flowers, mowing, trimming trees and learn-as-I-go landscaping.

With the heavy snowstorm snapping several branches, I had my work cut out for me. Literally. The piles of sticks, limbs, and branches increased after shaping a tree out back and tearing down a dead one. With the weather in the fifties yesterday and the late afternoon sun shining at the perfect spot, I took my tools out back and began cutting the pile into fire pit-sized pieces. Visions of roaring flames surrounded by friends roasting marshmallows filled my head while the work soothed my spirit. Mat Kearney tunes helped too.

Growing up, we had the most amazing house ever. A small hill off 896 led us back into a world all our own (mostly) where we were isolated in the forest but not too far from school, church and family. Surrounded by woods, there was always something to do. We lived by an unwritten rule, hanging in the hall in its proverbial frame; Though shall work before though shall play. Okay, my Old English needs fine-tuning, but that was the gist. Saturdays were spent mowing, raking and chopping wood – filling up the woodshed, so the stove in the basement never grew cold. The chores instilled a work ethic and a life philosophy of doing it right the first time means you don’t have to do it again. Or, maybe it was if thou doeth right…well, never mind.

What I loved the most was looking out over the property and admiring the freshly laid mulch, trimmed grass, and woodshed filled to the brim. When finished, I’d stand back admiring the work, or rather the change our hard work created. Now, I do the same. Whether it’s a diminishing woodpile or a row of a hundred sunflowers lining the fence, I stand and admire the land. My wife makes fun of me for standing, nodding, hands on my hips, “surveying” because I’m proud of what I’ve done or thinking about what I want to do next.

I feel I need to accomplish something during the day before sitting on the couch at night. Downtime needs to be earned. When my older brother was here a couple of weeks ago, he brought up a good point I hadn’t considered before. He, too, is the same about working and earning time to relax. It’s the blessing of a filled woodshed. He asked me if I think it is related to the expectation of working before playing or going out on dates when growing up. I didn’t need to give it another thought. It’s exactly why.

My dad has resided in heaven since 2005. People do not turn into angels when they die. Another thing I know wholeheartedly is our dearly departed are still part of our lives, looking down (in a way we cannot fathom). I know when my brothers and I are together, or we’re out working in the yard or winning districts in basketball, he isn’t just watching us. He’s surveying, nodding, looking at what he and my mom helped shape. As much as I wish he were helping me with the yard work, I feel his love. I feel him nodding. Proud. 

Originally Published: March 5, 2022