I got a phone call from my mother-in-law on the last day of
December, 2014, New Year’s Eve. Her
voice was hoarse and gravelly. She had
the flu since Christmas. “Would
you please go to the plant nursery for me and pick up my free mulch? My coupon expires
today. I would have done it myself, but
then I got sick.”
I did the math. I had
already decided that I was too sick with my own congestion and raw throat to go
to the Solemnity of Mary Mass, however, I could probably run this errand for
her. Plus, she melted my heart by
calling me an endearing name used by very few people that know me –
my mom, husband, and beloved deceased grandfather.
So, I got into my pyrite-colored truck, and drove to her home
ten minutes away. She was laying on her
couch in front of the T.V., covered in a crocheted afghan. “The coupon is behind you on the kitchen
table. Will your kids be able to spread
the mulch under my plants? There’s
supposed to be a freeze tonight.”
“No, my kids tested positive with the flu, the virus strain
that was not covered by the flu shot. I
don’t have the energy to spread it either, I’m still under the weather...” I could tell she was worried about her xeriscape
plants - thirty planted in her front yard, and another thirty in her backyard. There were red and purple Lantanas; Soft and
Red Yuccas; Ocohoi and Variegated Agaves; Cacti, like Spineless Prickly Pear; a
hot pink Crepe Myrtle; several Upright Rosemary plants; a magenta Knock Out Rose;
a Mexican Bird of Paradise; Autumn and Blue Sages; yellow Bulbines; a Crinum Lily;
two Persimmon Trees; two Cenizos; a purple Mountain Laurel; Turk’s Caps; Butterfly
Irises; yellow Esperanzas; Mexican Mint Marigolds; Skull Caps; Inland Sea Oats;
and Oregano, Duranta, and Damianita plants.
As I was leaving, I said, “I’ll just put the bags of mulch in your
garage.”
I drove to the plant nursery, about twenty minutes away, and
picked up six bags of cedar mulch, her favorite kind. During the drive there and back, the Lord was
working on my heart. I kept thinking
about some words that Jesus spoke to Saint Maria Faustina Kowalska, number 1489
in her Diary, “A single act of pure love pleases Me more than a thousand
imperfect prayers.”
I thought, “When have I ever
performed an act of pure love?” Then,
from the depths of my soul, I heard a very tiny whisper. It was Mary, my holy Mother. She said, “What if you spread the mulch?” At
first, I balked at the idea. But, I’m
sick. “You’re not that sick.” But, I’m
allergic to cedar. “Only to the pollen.” But, I’m wearing a white coat, and I have no
gloves. “You can wash later.”
By the time I got back to my mother-in-law’s home, it was 37
degrees outside, and dropping. I really
did not want to get my hands dirty, even just to pull the two cubic foot bags
into her garage. Then the thought
occurred to me that spreading the mulch would really be an act of pure love!
All of a sudden, the idea became irresistible. I’m gonna do it!
I pulled one of the bags of mulch
off the end of the truck and tore a hole in the top of it. I leaned it against the back tire and plunged
my hands into the shredded wood and dirt.
I grabbed as much mulch as I could hold with my bare hands, and stooped
down to spread it around the bottom of a spiky yucca plant. I spread the mulch around a dozen plants,
pulled down another bag, and leaned it against the front corner of her home. As I was tearing a hole in the top of the
second bag, a chilling breeze ran across my fingers. I noticed that if I kept my hands inside the
plastic bag just a few seconds longer before pulling out the mulch, my hands would
not feel cold as quickly. I wasn’t sure
that I could keep this up. I began to
doubt that I would be able to spread the remaining five bags of mulch.
Then I think a miracle
happened. It seemed as if the
temperature rose a few degrees. My hands
weren’t cold anymore. I kept working. I felt as if Mary’s angels were helping me
along. My work became easy and
light. I had such an overwhelming joy in
my heart, and an even greater love for my mother-in-law! An hour and fifteen minutes later, I finished
spreading all six bags of mulch in the front and back yards. Instead of pulling the six heavy bags of
mulch into her garage, I put the six empty bags into her trash can.
I decided not to tell my
mother-in-law what I did. After rinsing
off my hands the best I could with her hose, I drove home in enough time to
make dinner for my family. My heart was
soaring! I realized that the miracle was
not only in the physical circumstances, but also the fact that the Lord gave me
such a deep and pure love for my mother-in-law!
I marveled in the knowledge that what I did for her pleased Jesus more
than praying a thousand imperfect prayers for her salvation!
The next day, I got a phone call
from guess who. She told me the story of
how she looked out of her window that morning at her Persimmon Tree and
thought, “Poor tree, you are going to die.”
Then she looked down at the base of the tree and, seeing the mulch,
said, “Oh! You’re not going to die!” She asked
me, “Who did the labor?”
I said, “I did. Merry Christmas! I love you!!”
