About thirteen years ago, I started to carry a pail to football practice. At the time, it was meant to be a lesson for the kids. But ever since then, it has since become a poignant one for me. One about the essence of understanding, moving towards life and being open to true love. 

I shared a story about that pail with the players and parents in our community youth football program. How it held the most fertile soil around. Dark, rich, 100% Lemke Park dirt.  The finest in all of Mequon. How at one time, it had been home to bumper crops of corn, soybeans or perhaps even wheat. 

And as the lesson began to unfold, I shared how it had since grown into the best piece of grass in all of M-T. How even to this day, despite the goal posts, sleds and painted lines, it remained true to its original purpose; a farm. A place where some of the best young men and finest football players around are grown each year. 

I posited that since both grass and football players seem to grow so well on it, there had to be something about that dirt. I touched on its medicinal qualities.  How its composition acted as a salve for the pains and disappointments in life.  “A handful of that soil, when applied to where it hurts”, I said, “would make it all go away.” 

To “rub some dirt on it”, in football and life parlance. 

That tale was penned to buck them up, get them past their self-doubts, move them beyond discomfort, to take on challenging situations and help them overcome fear.  A motivational ploy to help them grow.  Like that dirt was to that old farm. Like football is to life.

But to one, the message resonated in an altogether different manner.  Though she read everything he’d written, this particular offering struck a different chord. This time, she “saw” something else.  Not just what was woven into those words.  But in the fabric of the one carrying that pail. 

She understood the lesson being taught. Its intention. How it was meant to promote growth.  But something at her core became focused on the one carrying the pail. And being that she happened to be made that way also, the connection was obvious.  The pail was part of her being too.

For her, it was not merely a prop. It spoke to her in a far more substantial way.  More than just “rub some dirt on it”. That pail was representative of what their  ultimate mission was to be.  Together. As one.

She  came to realize that he was just like her.  He shared in her life purpose. Vocation.  Yet in his own way.  And at some level, she simply wanted him to know that he was not alone in that.  In time, he began to see her.  To understand and appreciate that she was just like him.  

No longer would she be alone in pursuing her passion. And he now knows within his own core that same “something” she first sensed within hers.  Beyond what is merely woven into words.  But in the very fabric of his being. 

That she is within him. 

Ineinander. 

The seed of what has since become a life-long bond.

Gardeners both. 

Two fully intent on producing healthy, lasting, and abundant growth within one another.  

Within everyone they touch.  

And everywhere they go. 

Two that were always intended to carry that pail of dirt. 

Together.