It is a task performed with repetitive motion, often in the heat of the day for hours and hours. It is carried out despite its monotonous nature, regardless of the blisters that form on delicate skin or the pain that engulfs an aching back, hands, and knees. It is a task done in the hope of preventing encroaching chaos and destruction. It is a time-consuming, never ending, and back-breaking task demanding me to perform it over and over again. It is weeding my garden!
When I first began clearing weeds from my garden, I had a zeal that carried me through all of the physical weariness and the mental monotony of this repetitive task. Often taking up an entire day during the weekend or hours after work, I would weed tirelessly until all I saw was the freshly cleaned soil and beautiful, flourishing plants once choked by weeds. Sadly, it seemed that no sooner had I cleared the garden bed that weeds resurged relentless in their attack. As I focused on one particular section of yard, another section would be ambushed. I am easily overwhelmed by the reality that my labor merely delays the advance of weeds; they come back year after year no matter how far down I dig or how many of their spreading rhizomes I unearth. My stamina to continue to nurture my plants and combat the weeds wanes with each summer season.
Of course, I am ashamed at my flabby determination. How silly this would seem to those whose endurance has been tested in the fires of life-and-death situations, those who have been asked to survive in the most crushing circumstances? I read about endurance-athletes who run, swim, or climb for miles. I wonder about this kind of tenacity as I muster my comparatively small quantum of energy for the more quotidian task of caring for my garden. And I wonder about the quality of a person who undertakes endurance sports or who has survived and thrived despite incredible, life-threatening odds.