Chores of the Heart

By: Angela Gillaspie © March 2000

I remember an early spring Saturday that began with biscuits, gravy, and a simple prayer, "Lord, help me find the time."

A soft wind crept through the kitchen window and cooled my neck as I squeezed the last cup in the dishwasher. Turning to the breeze, I heard laughter from the backyard. I peeked out and watched my kids playing a game of keep away with a worn soccer ball.

Three-year-old Nicky ran to the ball, stopped suddenly, pulled his leg back, and kicked at the ball - totally missing it. He looked down with disbelief at the non-moving ball as six-year-old brother Josh whizzed by and booted the ball away.

Recently my workload has increased and I usually spend roughly six to nine hours a day on my computer debugging financial and manufacturing programs. My kids argue more frequently in attempts to pry my attention away from my computer screen and toward them. Working at home is a blessing, but sometimes the balance becomes off kilter and the home front or the growing list of bombing programs will be neglected.

"Heeeey! Gimme that!" Ashley exclaimed, taking off after Josh at full speed. At eight, she could outrun them both.

I wanted to join their fun - to run out, grab all three kids, tumble to the ground, and tickle them until they squealed. Unfortunately, an incomplete software specification and several broken programs beckoned me to the computer.

Working at home was a blessing, but sometimes the balance between the home front and earning a living threw me off kilter. Standing there as the spring breeze rolled over me, I thought of how often the kids attempted to pry my attention away from software bugs and more toward the six-legged variety of bugs that they found under the deck.

The stress of refereeing squabbling children under my feet and angry salesmen or pouting accountants on a conference call is really getting to me. This temperate day could revive me and restore a bit of my sanity.

I yelled out of the window for the kids to meet me down by the garage. I quickly pulled on a stained tee shirt, old shorts, and then walked outside to meet my chore committee. My husband smiled at me as he pulled on his work gloves and reached for the bag of soil. The sun was bright and a light breeze teased wisps of hair down from where it was clasped on my head. The kids looked expectantly from Daddy to me and to the bag of dirt and then it dawned on them what we were going to do -- Oh Boy! It was hard for them to stand still -- they were anxious to sink their little hands into the rich black dirt.

We gathered up our supplies and walked to the front porch where two cement planters were halfway filled with sandy dirt. I dug into the dry soil, creating small v-shaped holes that each child in turn placed a plant into. They patted down the soil and beamed up at me as if to say, "See what I can do!"

To me this was a chore that needed to be done, but to my kids it was an adventure. To sum it up perfectly, Josh exclaimed, "Look Mommy! I'm makin' it grow!"

Next, we went to back porch and I filled six tiny terra cotta planters with dirt. I pulled three packets of seeds from the pocket of my unraveling work shorts. Three hands were thrust toward me and I very carefully sprinkled sweet basil, curled parsley, and oregano seeds in the center of each dirt-streaked palm.

With furrowed brows and tongues slightly stuck out in deep concentration, they placed the seeds in their earthen homes and pushed soil over them.

I misted the pots with water and placed them in a terrarium next to the dining room window. Nicky peered at his pots and asked, "Am they growin' yet? I don't see nuffin!" I explained that the seeds need time and soon they will be peeking out of the dirt to find him. He grinned at the thought of his very own plants looking for him.

Daddy appeared out on the deck with one small tomato plant and began placing it into a large planter. Ashley pressed her face close to the window making a steam butterfly as she watched Daddy tenderly pour soil around the tomato plant. "Mmm! I can’t wait to pick a juicy tomato!" she said, and I agreed with her.

The kids helped me clean up the mess, and followed me to the bathroom where I washed my hands. I smiled at them and invited them to wash up also. I walked over to my computer and sat in my chair to log on and check my e-mail. To my left were three kids looking at me doe-eyed and pitiful. I turned to face them and each of them burst into a grin because they had my full attention.

"What else?" Ashley asked.

Chuckling, I pushed my keyboard in and rose from my chair. "What else, indeed?" I wondered aloud.

Last fall, we visited a 100-year-old farm where the kids picked cotton. I saved two tufts of cotton and stored them in my top drawer. Why? Well, if you have to ask, then you must not be a mother. I try really hard not to keep every souvenir of my children’s lives, but some things defy rationality.

I instructed Josh to get a planter and for Ashley to pour the dirt into it. I reached over, grabbed Nicky’s hand and said, "We’ll be right back."

Pushing through hosiery, I found the zipped baggie with the past fall’s treasure in it. I shook it in front of Nicky and he said, "Cotton!" He grabbed it and ran back outside; grinning, I followed the pat-pat-pat of his footsteps through the house.

We picked the seeds out of one of the tufts and each child planted his and her very own seeds in the planter by poking a stubby finger into the soft soil, pressing the seed down into the hole and then covering it. They babbled "Remember when …?" about their trip to the farm while sprinkling extra dirt over the planted seeds.

We finished up our yard work by helping Daddy sprinkle wild flower mix into a four-foot by four-foot area that was to be Mommy’s flower garden. Nicky grew bored with this so we went to blow bubbles up on the deck. I looked down and saw Daddy kneeling down and explaining to Ashley and Josh that it was their responsibility to water the new plants and seeds throughout the week.

They looked back at him and their eyes seemed to sparkle. This was an important job and they nodded their acceptance of this new assignment.

Poking my finger at a bubble, and watching it disappear into nothingness I reveled in this moment. These days with my children are like these bubbles, I thought. They float along, inspiring me with their beauty and flawless nature and then "pop" they are gone.

Sharing my "chores" with the kids enabled them to experience a one-to-one positive encounter with nature. In the coming weeks, they will watch their creations grow and then explode with color.

This little soap bubble of time will pop, but not be forgotten. I hope that my kids will carry this memory of the fun they had with Mommy and Daddy on this early spring Sunday into their adult lives and visit it often.

Planting seeds and setting plants with my most favorite people in the world turned out to be the soothing salve for my soul.