I liked the sign a lot better when it was broken.

A bit of an institution in our neighborhood, the sign stands along High Street near where we live and go to school, advertising a local mom-and-pop variety dry cleaners.  Given that we take High Street nearly everywhere, my children and I regularly watch for their weekly wit and wisdom, spelled out in mis-matched plastic block letters changed with a big long pole and their grandson’s sturdy arms.

“Ouch,” the sign read when it was hit a few months back, one of its most profound moments.

And then the sign was silent.

But the sign is back, and along with it the trite and true sayings collected by wise and witty folk over a lifetime of digesting Reader’s Digest.  I usually like the sign.  But not today.

“Weed your own garden first,” it scolds today.  Or at least I perceive it to be scolding.  But perhaps I perceive it to be scolding because my garden looks like this:

Perhaps. Or perhaps I perceive it to be scolding because I am prone to perceive scolding tones where scolding tones are not always present.

Regardless, the fact remains my garden needs weeding, and I am apparently to give it my attention before I direct my attention elsewhere.

That and the three hundred other things demanding my attention.

This remains the dilemma for which I have no further insight or resolution.  How do I care for myself and care for others at the same time?  How do I care for myself and remain a follower of the Jesus who calls us to repeatedly lay down our lives in daily sacrifice?

I don’t know.

He who gains his life will lose it.  He who loses his life will gain.

There are people to be taken care of.  I number among them.  The garden, to the dismay of my horticulturally-gifted neighbor, will have to continue to wait.

Sometimes, your own garden has to wait.

depression devotional family life humor inspiration motherhood overload parenthood parenting photographs reflection spiritual