A Handful Of Purpose

Becoming A True Worshiper

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.