When the Geese Get Gone

Yesterday I mowed the weeds roots leaves lawn. All told, it took about four hours and five Pandora stations. I still maintain it is infinitely more enjoyable than cleaning the kitchen. Unfortunately, I didn't land this job in a trade, so the kitchen was still messy when I came inside. Hubs is on a surgical service this month, which means he goes to work for forever, comes home to sleep, and goes back for forever. It's awesome.

Also, if right now you're conjuring Gray's Anatomy as a reference for what "surgical service" means, let me just say this. Residents grab lunch when (if) they can, one at a time, at weird non-lunch hours. As opposed to the entire third year team lolligagging around the cafeteria at noon (or hiding in the basement), gabbing about hospital politics and call room drama as they leisurely chew a sandwich. Residents don't chew. They scarf. And it's a pretty safe bet that if they actually get more than 2 minutes in a call room, they're gonna use it to sleep. Not with, not around. Just sleep. Ahem.

But back to mowing the lawn. Because that's the kind of glamorous material you come here for, right?

My music blared, and the motor sputtered. The kids came back and forth, asking me to adjust their bike helmets or settle a frisbee dispute or find the dog's tennis ball. And when they'd approach yelling their lungs out, until I shut off the motor and pulled off the ear phones, they might as well have been mouthing their requests. I couldn't hear them at all.

So of course it stunned me when a small flock of geese flew overhead and I heard them honking as loud and as clear as if I was in their lane, right in front. And I looked up, watched the geese get going wherever it is they go. My gloves smelled of gasoline, and my hair smelled like grass, and my back felt like breaking, and my heart felt like flying.

And for a moment, I admit, I was jealous of the geese. Of the getting gone, the horizon chasing, the escape to new.

When I hear "I'll Fly Away", I usually think of a small country congregation belting it out in the olden days. It's not one of my favorite hymns. Not even when Allison Krause sings it. But yesterday, when the geese passed by, I paused Pandora and started to hum.

When the shadows of this life have flown,

I'll fly away.

Like a bird thrown, driven by the storm,

I'll fly away.

I know it's cheesey and overdone and maybe that's why I usually cringe when I hear it.

But yesterday I didn't cringe, and yesterday I didn't care about how cliche it all was. I think, when the geese go and I find myself wishing to follow, it's because I was made for more than this. More than for mowing lawns and cleaning kitchens and the redoing of what eventually comes undone. I was made to breathe deep and to spread wings, to escape into new heaven and earth. And there will come a glad morning, when hallelujah by and by, I'll go. When I'll get gone with the geese. When I'll fly away.

Photo Credit - Flickr Creative Commons