Garbage Bags

To me, this is a beautiful sight. To me, this is love. The love of a mother. MY mother.

Upon returning from a trip to the temple on Saturday, we found all of these lovely bags in our yard. Why, you may ask, is this a GOOD thing? For weeks, now, we've been trying to put our yard in order. Joe not only works LONG hours, but he has extreme allergies and is out for a day from doing the smallest amount of yardwork. And me-- well, lets say I have two needy kids, two and under. Enough said. My older brother has come and helped with a lot of the yardwork, which we have SO appreciated. All that was left was piles and piles of leaves, branches, and weeds. They'd been in nice, little piles for a couple of weeks. I was really tired of looking at them! After getting home from the temple Saturday, we found that all of our piles were missing, and in their places were these lovely bags, filled to the brim. We thought my older brother had come over and done it. I even called him and left a message on his phone, thanking him profusely. It wasn't until yesterday, after my mom felt guilty for leading us to believe my brother had done it (she had wanted to remain anonymous, but at the same time, she didn't like being deceitful) that we found out it was HER. My 50-something-year-old mom had spent an hour or so finishing up our yardwork, wanting nothing in return. Oh, and she also babysat our two kids (along with my brother and dad) while we were at the temple. Is this love? I think "yes." Thanks, Mom.