No Mow May

My family is participating in No Mow May for the second or third year in a row. And for the second or third year in a row, we are the only family on our block participating. Though we are glad we have an opportunity to help our pollinators thrive, there is a part of me that cringes a bit every time I pull in and out of our driveway and compare our neighbors' neatly trimmed yards to our own shaggy one.

I never took myself to be a person concerned about what my neighbors think of me, but apparently all it takes is a few weeks of letting the grass grow and I find myself wanting to either duck and hide my face or shout out to every person who walks by, "It's No Mow May!" To be clear, our neighbors are all wonderful people who likely aren't thinking anything at all about our lawn, let alone making judgements. No, the source of my cringing is all internal.

I don't know why we do this to ourselves. Why we ever doubt our belovedness, fail to see the brightness of our own light, convince ourselves, against all evidence to the contrary, that our neighbors disapprove of our lawns? We humans are a funny bunch.

Now, my kids, the lawnmowers in the family, are campaigning for No Mow June, July, and August as well, and if that should happen (it won't!), I may need to reconsider. But for now I am going to practice shifting my focus. I know my neighbors are not passing judgement on our lawn, but you know who might be? The bees and the butterflies and and other essential pollinators. So for the rest of May, every time I invent in my mind a scenario where a neighbor is annoyed at my lawn, I will stop myself right there, and instead picture bees and butterflies celebrating among that tall and shaggy grass. I'll picture them dining, dancing, and raising their families, safe and sound among the lush green of our lawn. Maybe I'll even throw in some images of them sliding down dandelion stems and collecting water in the "cup" of a creeping charlie flower, just for fun.

My prayer for you this week is that you do the same. Every time self-doubt or the smallest amount of shame about this or that - any of the things that make us human - enters your mind, replace it with this: the image of God dancing and celebrating the wonder that is you in the world. Maybe God will even pick some dandelions for you and invite you to play.