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Summer Scents
By Penny Smith
The fragrant rose ushers in
the summer season with dazzling splashes of color that only gloved hands
dare tend. When roses bloom, coiled nerve-ends sigh with relief, and Frisbee
brains float to a state of limbo. The smell of summer is in the air.
Summer means you don't have
to fight with the kids to get them to bed because now they can sleep in --
unless of course they are old enough to get a summer job. Which means you'll
have to become a chauffeur or hand the car keys over.
Let's face it. When summer
makes its debut in the Northern Hemisphere on June 21, our troubles are over
for almost three blessed months. No more worrying about things like your
child getting thrown off the school bus, serving detention twice a week,
forging your name on the report card, or hiding a handful of grasshoppers in
Mrs. Snitzel's desk.
Just think. You don't have to
hear, "I can't find my math book"; "Mom, my sneaks are soaked!" (So what
were they doing in the yard?)
Summer is when you unwind,
hang loose, and putter around with things that are really important. Like
the junk cars cluttering your yard (you men), and what could be more
important than the pool? Even if you work outside the home, at least you
don't have the homework horrors. The kids can watch the boob tube until
their eyes fall out for all you care. Wouldn't you know? They never even
turn it on.
"How could you even think
TV?" they gasp. "It's summer."
Suddenly your Frisbee-brain
begins to turn over memories of last summer. You couldn't stand the thoughts
of parting with the kids for that two-week camp.
"Let's spend time together,"
you chirped.
But before July peeked around
the corner, you had lined up three weeklong camps, a two-week day camp, and
a week with Grandma. Aye, aye, aye; what to do with the last two weeks? How
could you have forgotten so soon that your son broke his arm falling out of
the neighbor's cherry tree? (while stripping it of cherries). Of course, he
had a tummy ache, which kept you up half the night.
"I'm glad I don't have to get
up for school," he groaned. You dragged yourself to work wondering what
value this could possibly have in your process of spiritual growth.
Again, what about his brother
trampling the newly planted garden to death while chasing the dog, (which
was supposed to be kept on the leash)? That's when you discover, 1ike I did,
why roses have thorns.
Your sadistic side thinks of
setting traps by spreading sweetbriars around the cherry tree trunk.
Strangely, you have another side, too. The side that smiles when
caterpillars and snails greet your searching fingers while sorting laundry;
or views your six-year-old's attempt at a haircut as creativity.
Sure, you'll get tired of
picking up toys, moving bikes from the driveway, and tripping over skate
boards. It's summer. The roses are blooming. Scented gardens require
preparation. At times your briars may show. If so, remember that nearly
2,000 years ago, Roman soldiers "twisted together a crown of thorns and set
it on His head. This God-Man referred to as the "Rose of Sharon" was
pierced; yet He released the greatest fragrance the world has ever known.
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