It's Monday. Here comes Ferd, hoe in hand. A retired Ford employee spending Mondays at the Arboretum hoeing weeds. Same hoe. Same apple. Same bench. Same spot on the bench. Mannerisms were shy, Ferd said little. Noon, I'll take a seat on the bench and comment on the swans and geese. Cross-legged, Ferd would ask me about school; tell me about his school teacher son looking for work in Columbus. Apple core packed away in the brown lunch bag. Back to the beds.
Today I sat on that bench remembering the people who come into our lives. There were others. Other volunteers who have since left this world. Cliff and Caroline would take careful measure to thin out the pine grove by careful pruning. Today the pines are limbed up six feet from the ground. Daffodil Bill came out with a ruler and planted mums 12" apart. Not 11", Not 13" - 12". Precision. Today, weeds cover the daffodil bed. A Kentucky Coffee Tree, in memoriam, stands over Parker Lake for Daffodil Bill Schroeder.
Joe! Blake lost his wife to cancer. Joe took off cross country on his bike so I mowed his grass. Barb made me lemonade in her final days. I wondered if people come into our lives or if we come into people's lives. Two benches sit in the Arboretum with Barb Blake's name. One in the Butterfly Garden and another overlooking Parker Lake situated near three weeping cherries, one of those cherries in memory of Matt Gfell.
We all have a story to tell. It's all a dance. God is the great author, choreographer, giver of grace. I thank God that he has come into my life and lifted me up. A new beginning is ahead. I pray we all can find our peace and salvation by believing and trusting in Jesus. Born again into new beginnings, new stories, new dances!
