One of my first items to do for the past week was the last to be completed: cutting the grass. Taking advantage of Shelley's folks with us and Grandma watching the kids, I took the mower out for its inaugural spin. It started up impressively, with one pull of the cord and away I went.
During chores such as these, my mind likes to wander. I was thinking about a push mower, how much better for the environment it would be and how much easier it would be to use, instead of filling it up with gas, checking the oil, worrying about waking Kai up when I'm under his window. While thinking such thoughts, the mower sensed my betrayal and quit on me.
I first thought I ran out of gas which usually happens in that portion of my route. But even after I topped up the tank, it sputtered and wheezed which brought Shelley's dad over to take a look.
An esteemed colleague of mine, the Rev. Dr. B_ M_ proclaimed that ordination has emasculated him. I have to agree; it has emasculated him. As for me, I was always an idiot when it came to engines and the like.
Shelley's dad looked a few things over, said something about "carburetor" and "fuel line". We took turns yanking on the starter cord. He looked at air filters and spark plugs and with a magic sweep of his wire brush, the engine roared to life and I was on my way once more.
Good thing he was there, otherwise I would have done what any other minister would do: put the mower away, call the manse committee and wonder "What Would B_ M_ Do?".