Mown Grass by Susan L.

  I spent several hours raking mown grass earlier this week. It was surprising how much the sweet fragrance triggered an emotional response. Memories of the hay field and the hard, hot and heavy work rose up unwanted. The anxiety and old worries swept over me. The echoes and rocking motion ghosts of the old hay baler...ka-thunk, ka-thunk...were as loud as if I was once again sitting on the old tractor.
  I look/felt a myriad of memories that was a bit like flicking though a bunch of old photos.
  Then the work retreat was at my co-workers house. Looking into the valley behind her place was like looking into the past. The farm where I used to live is in plain sight. The view was bittersweet.
  Lord, help me forgive what needs to be forgiven. In writing about it this time, I realize there's a lot of emotional trauma surrounding hay season.
  My ex was dangerous around the equipment. He took chances that could have gotten himself or somebody else killed. My warnings and cautions fell on deaf ears. Not surprising. My voice had been lost long before. Lord, You spared him. May he find his destiny in You. I choose to forgive him.
  Getting the equipment ready fell on my shoulders as did most of the farm work. Forgive me for being an enabler, for being so willing to look after the responsibilities of livestock and the grease gun.
  But most of all, Lord, help me forgive him for not being there the last year we did hay. Help me forgive him for setting his priorities on another while I shouldered the responsibility of running the farm, while I drove a truck that was held together with duck tape and a song. Help me forgive him for the huge amount of money he spent on his folly when the jeans I chose to wear were nothing but frayed rags. Forgive me for not feeling I deserved better.
  Help me, Lord, choose to forgive him for his deceptions.
  And that's enough of that for today. It's tough.
  Lord, fill me with Your grace and peace for the day. In Jesus' name I pray.
  "The Lord roars from Zion, and utters His voice from Jerusalem; The pastures of the shepherds mourn, and the top of Carmel withers." Amos 1:2