I spent much of Saturday participating in an exercise no one my age should participate in. I pulled sticker burrs from the natural area in front our house.

For. Three. Hours.

We’re not talking acres. Just large enough and full enough of pokey granite that spending that much time on your hands and knees makes Advil your friend for the next 48 hours. 

Sticker burrs parade under other aliases. Grass burrs. Sand burrs. 

Matters not. Burrs are curs as far as I’m concerned. 

If you desire a living example of sin and The Fall, sticker burrs win “First in Show.” Here’s a montage of what happens when good grasses go bad.

The most challenging sticker character trait? Their fertility rate. They basically pop out of the ground with baby sticker seeds ready to cut loose.

The best failsafe solution? Pull the plant out before the stickers fall to the ground.

If I put down pre-emergent the wildflower seeds won’t emerge either. Same goes if I spray. So hours on hands and knees and pulling.

I’m sure there’s a faith story here. 

Something about sin and getting rid of it before it consumes your entire yard. Something about persevering and pulling it out roots and all. Something about how one sticker plant was two (!) feet in diameter with a zillion offspring.

We’ve all met a sin plant that multiplies that quickly in our lives.

I know next spring won’t be perfect. Some of those babies are lying in wait. 

But I’d rather have “Ahhh!” than “Ouch!” Pulling’s the way to go.

With stickers. And sin.