Okay, I may be exaggerating some, but not much.

The weeds were actually taunting me: “You think you can take ALL of us. Ha! You can’t even come down the stairs without holding on to the rails!”

The taunts continued – some not appropriate to put in an email. But instead of intimidating me, they actually sparked a fire deep inside of me. And like Ammon at the waters of Sebus I found myself in the middle of those weeds fighting for my life, whacking off arms left and right.

Grass and weeds were flying all around me. I even had to stop the mower a few times and move the “dead bodies” of weeds out of the way, so the battle could continue. Then it happened. I had not trained properly for these two back to back battles: front yard and back yard in the same morning. What was I thinking?

So, yes, I began to tire and this somehow inspired the weeds and they began to push me and the lawn mower back and back. It wasn’t looking good.

At the end of the first period, I was down 3-1, and still badly outnumbered. Down, but not out. The taunts increased. Even Charlotte came out and added her two bits: “You cutting the grass too low. You’re killing the St. Augustine. You’re killing the St. Augustine!” she screamed. The weeds howled with laughter and added their sneering taunts: “Why don’t you let her fight for you, momma’s boy!”

That did it.

Something came over me – call it an unconquerable spirit if you will. I firmly told Charlotte [his wife] to get back in the house, as things were about to get real nasty. She didn’t go easy, and she paused just before going into the house to give me a non-verbal gesture, the meaning of which is definitely not fit to put in this email.

Somehow, I rallied and began to fight like a lion, falling upon the weeds with such ferocity that it actually scared them and I began to pull ahead. I had them on the run…finally!

In the final moment of the battle, I leaned against the handle of your mower, to rest for two to three breaths to gather my strength, then struck the final blow of death to the last stragglers of weeds. I then stopped the mower and basked in the silence and the thrill of victory.

And in the middle of the silence it seemed I could hear the faint sound of Celestial Applause which keep increasing and increasing until…Charlotte, once more shattered the moment with, “You look like you could use a couple of Advil.” I knew I had no more fight in me, so I quietly said, “You’re probably right.”

But as I slowly walked off the battle field, I turned and smiled that smile of victory. Sweet! Just before walking into the back door, I heard one last shot from the dying weeds, “We’ll be back in about a week, you know, and we’ll bring others with us. It ain’t over!”

I snarled, “I’ll be ready!” and entered the house totally exhausted, but happy.

Well, Bishop, that’s how it was in the life and times of Tony Brigmon on Friday, May 12, 2006! I gave your mower its bath and it is ready for transport, should you want to drop by on your way home. Just want you to know how much I appreciate your kindness in bring it by while mine is being repaired. Maybe an opportunity will arise for me to do something special for you. Hope so. Thank you.

Tony
—————————————————-
Food for thought: Like the great warrior Tony Brigmon, are you turning adversity into a university of possibilities by letting it light a fire inside you?