christian living, faith walk, God first, impatience, resilience
Like a beaver out to win a logging competition, I attacked my shrubs with a vengeance. My tool of choice, a Hedge trimmer. The two-foot bar of steel teeth whirring back and forth, open cut, open cut; devouring anything caught between the sharp blades, making quick work of the pruning task. I told myself all the branches hanging over the driveway had to go. Although I encourage the natural growth pattern of plants and allow them to find their own shape, even this felt out of control. I pointed the Hedge trimmer to line up with the planter’s edge and turned the power on. It was a drastic move that gave a severe outcome. With a blur of blades, task complete, and the shrub no longer hung over the driveway. Perhaps I enjoy power tools a little too much.
Choices and consequences. A moment of haste, and well….
The now exposed undergrowth was dull and leafless. I wasn’t really going for the midwinter brown, bare-branched look. The indiscriminate Hedge trimmer removed all the greenery. In my haste to get caught up on yard work, my efforts looked choppy and extreme.
Quick, yes, but….
All the things I know to be true about caring for and tending to plants flash across my mind as I stare at the result of my impatient choice. There is a way to prune a shrub that doesn’t leave such scars on the exterior but-it takes more time.
What I know and what I do, don’t always align…
I’ve seen the skillful touch of a master gardener finding individual branches and clipping below the surface, leaving healthy plant life on the exterior. In my humanity and haste, I get frustrated and impatient. Instead of following the lessons of the master gardener, who gently prunes with a snip here and a snip there, I want radical change yesterday, so I end up creating a naked bush, begging for a do-over or at least a different gardener.
For tools, any tool will do, right?
So maybe the Hedge trimmer wasn’t the right tool for this job. The raw evidence of a job done in haste revealed my impatience. I assure myself that the plant will sprout new leaves and cover my rash decision, but hindsight reminds me, I could have chosen a different tool.
Bigger isn’t always better…
My garage is full of tools of varying sizes and purposes. Shovels, rakes, power trimmers, leaf blowers, edgers, loppers and pole saws. My favorite, the hand pruner is small, maybe 7 inches total. It has a sharp curved blade that cuts clean through small branches.
Precision is priceless…
I also know the Master Gardener for being precise. His aim is sure. He doesn’t lay bare everything in my life all at once. In His mercy and grace, He tends to my soul with finesse. He does not use a hedge trimmer on my wayward growth patterns. He carefully, thoughtfully because he knows, and loves me – reaches into the shrub that is my life and snips a little here and trims a little there. Taking his time to nurture and encourage new growth patterns in me.
Patience is a virtue, but I’m in too much of a hurry…
I need to learn it anew, Lord. Slow my pace. Teach me to believe your methods are for my good and your glory. Challenge me to trust your wisdom and the tools of your choosing.
James 1:5 If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him.
James 3:17 But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruits, impartial and sincere.
John 15:1-2 I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser. Every branch in me that does not bear fruit he takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, that it may bear more fruit.
faith walk, forgotten, parenting, perseverance, relationships, resilience
Celebrated days are messy middle days–joy for one, heartache for another.
Looking for the right words to express both-and.
Deep love and appreciation. Humbled by grace and hardened by grief.
Mixed Feelings. Raw emotions.
Loss. Longing. Joy and thanksgiving.
Empty in one relationship. Full in another.
A scale that isn’t balanced.
Expectations. Emotions. Decisions. High mountains. Low valleys.
Mom, daughter, sister, auntie, step-daughter, daughter-in-law, grandma, and the generations go.
Not all celebrated relationships are direct relations.
Embrace what you can.
Sometimes, in the anguish of reality, a brightness warms the night.
Be a light. Walk in the light, it brings hope to darkness.
An experience or individual that shapes us, love of another–
a mother: by choice, by circumstance, or by heart.
From a distance, in your dreams and wishes, in reality and in loss.
Whatever place your mind dwells, on this day of celebrating motherhood,
may you find peace in the imperfection of this life. Joy on your journey,
And grace for the hard, the healing and the hopeful.
christian living, faith walk, forgotten, friendship, life experience, relationships, resilience, spirituality
I didn’t know “seasonal” could describe friendship or that not all friendships last a lifetime.
In my mid-twenties & struggling to understand recent friendship shifts, I observed my mother, a time-tested military wife. She had moved many times, and didn’t have a bestie or a group of gal-pals she reached back to as she was transplanted again. She started where she was, propagating new friendships and cultivating hospitality.
At first, I was sad for her. But my feelings didn’t match her emotions. She wasn’t sad. She had learned to embrace the changes that came with the military lifestyle. Settled and friends took on new meaning. She inwardly mourned the loss of what had been and outwardly embraced the now. She welcomed unfamiliar faces into every home in my memory.
She lived Ecclesiastes 3: There’s a time for every activity under the sun. Like the illustration of planting and harvesting, my mom planted seeds of friendship in the soil of each location.
Do these thoughts about friendship and seasons stir emotions in you?
Have you worked the soil with little to show for it?
For too many years, I carried guilt for friendships that seemed lost in the past, feeling as though I had “failed” to maintain a connection across the planting and harvesting of life.
If you’re in a time of friendship shifting, can I suggest my mom’s habit of tilling the soil of acquaintances?
Reach out and extend hospitality.
- Be the person others can gather with.
- Be patient with the in-between times. They can feel awkward and lonely. Lean into the God who created you. He knows your need for connection. Tell Him how you feel, then keep working the soil. Watch Him provide.
- Be careful that friendship isn’t where you find your security and identity, find it in your relationship with Christ.
- Be a thanksgiver in every season. Send a note or text of appreciation to a friend that enriched your life in a previous season.
Rest your roots in Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.”
faith walk, God first, Prayer, relationships, Ressurrection, spirituality
It was early–the sun wasn’t up. But I was ready. Styled like a first century woman, I wore a long pull over dress tied with a fabric sash, sandals and a long head covering. The retreat location, off the coast of California, resembled the Mediterranean hills surrounding Jerusalem. My character was mourning the loss of the most influential person she had ever known. He saw right through her, knew her story, healed her with redemption and love. This Mary I portrayed heard him teach with wisdom, heal with words, and feed multitudes from a boy’s lunch. She served and supported his travel and teaching. Listening and learning, all while serving and seeing. He spoke of repentance and a kingdom to come–The kingdom of Messiah spoken of by the prophets. This is who she knew him to be.
Like all Jews, Mary celebrated Passover. Individually and collectively, remembering how the blood of the lamb, brushed on the doorposts of their homes, had spared them from the angel of death before their ancestors fled Egypt. This teacher/Jesus she followed was honored with shouts of Hosanna as He entered Jerusalem on a donkey. The crowds shouted: “Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord. Blessed is the coming kingdom of our Father David. Hosanna in the highest.” Longing to be freed from Roman oppression, they didn’t realize he was their sacrificial lamb. That it would be His blood that would save them once for all. They wanted a physical King in their here and now.
From shouting Hosanna; to give us Barabbas, just days later. Jesus didn’t meet their expectations.
At our island retreat, the students had learned all these details. Hearing of Jesus’ betrayal, beating and cross bearing. The trek to Golgotha. The gruesome crucifixion. Hideous Roman crosses. Thieves. Forgiveness. Pain and anguish. Nail-pierced hands. It is finished. Then Silence.
The students had gone off to bed solemnly. The next morning, the outdoor arena filled with tired high school campers wrapped in sleeping bags and jackets–awakened early and asked to make their way to the small amphitheater. No breakfast and no insight about what would happen next.
In our outdoor theatre, the other woman and I waited just out of sight. The youth leader started reading the account of Jesus’ Resurrection, sharing from the different Gospels what happened after the horror of the crucifixion. Gambling for garments. His body removed. A burial place offered. His body prepared. Sabbath requirements quickening. More weeping and sorrow. His body entombed. Expectations unfulfilled. A long night and silent Saturday.
As he read “Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of James went to the tomb to check on the body”, my fellow scene-mate and I ran into the arena calling out, “He is not there. He has risen.” The dust rising as we moved our feet and carried our skirts. Emotion overwhelmed me as I ran. Imagining all she had seen and experienced.
From within the crowd of huddled students, several male counselors-also cast members-stood up, responding to us with disbelief–a harsh contrast to the women’s exhilaration. However, one, portraying Peter, jumped from his place, climbed over students, running past me and out of sight, saying he had to see this revelation for himself.
At the week’s beginning, Jesus was the celebrated Messiah. Friday, they crucified him as a liar. Saturday’s despair and disbelief contrast with Sunday’s victorious discovery–A Risen Lord and Savior. Truth met even those who doubted His appearances to them.
Truth also meets us where we are and sets us free.
As I pondered the experience of the Mary I was portraying, I realized she didn’t know who was standing before her-at first. The filter of grief lifted as He called her name. “Mary.” I am Alive. Whole. Not yet ascended. His teaching and truth affirmed in an instant. She knew his voice. Hope restored. Faith bolstered. Prophecy fulfilled. What a gift His appearance and His resurrection. From death to life. Forever.
I may have portrayed Mary Magdalene, but I can identify with each of the ones who encountered Jesus: Healed. Fed. Amazed. Mother. Sibling. Pharisee. Doubter. Betrayer. Thief. Soldier. Sleepy students. Peter said let me see for myself. Like Mary, I don’t always realize who is standing before me. In my weak ways, I forget what it means to encounter the living Christ.
Lord, may every day’s resurrection celebration remind me anew all that I am because of you:
Unblemished–because of your blood sacrifice. 1 Peter 1:18-21
Sealed–I cannot be ripped from your love. Ephesians 1: 13-14
Worthy–because Your Holy Father sees me through the filter of You, Jesus Christ. Revelation 5:12-14
I wonder, have you encountered him? Have you seen Him? Do you know the truth of his resurrection, and do you believe? He came that we might experience the depth of his Grace, the powerful salvation of our souls by the protective blood of the lamb. Prophecy fulfilled. Life, breath and days in his hands forever more.
May we like Mary, run and tell others what we know to be true–He is Risen.
Hallelujah, what a Savior.
faith walk, God first, perseverance, spirituality
I sat at my new desk and the first thing he said to me was, “Take out a pen and paper. I want to see that you are taking notes. This is how I want you to do the following tasks.” Intimidating? You bet. Fear of forgetting? Absolutely. I didn’t want to do it wrong in front of him or the others in the office. I wanted to impress my new boss by remembering the things I needed to do.
So how does one commit to memory the important things in life? I used to have all my friends’ and family’s phone numbers memorized. Probably because I had to write them down. Birthdays and Anniversaries. The digital age has changed that practice of remembering. Copy and paste doesn’t do much to help my memory. I spent many childhood Sunday mornings looking up verses in the Bible, as my teacher called them out. I had to have the books of the Old and New testaments memorized to accomplish the task. If I was quick, sometimes I got a prize–I could flip pages fast for chocolate! Result? Books of the Bible memorized.
“I will remember the deeds of the Lord; yes, I will remember your wonders of old. I will ponder all your work and meditate on your mighty deeds.” Psalm 77:11-12 ESV What a verse. I never want to forget all He has done for me.
So, how do we remember something, anything? Repetition. My almost 3-year-old granddaughter knows this very well. She learns everything right now through repetition. Oh, to learn again like a toddler. I must repeat it to remember. Say it again and again. Sing it again and again. Write it again and again. Tell someone again and again. I remember by repeating.
Are you training someone new at work? You get this. You might be the one getting trained. You get it. Moms with kids. You get this, too. Teaching and training feels never ending. Coaching someone toward a goal? They need repetition. New years headlines are full of articles telling us how to start a new habit. You guessed it – repetition.
In the Old Testament, God told the Israelites how to remember. He was the ultimate coach, teacher, mentor and parent. Deuteronomy 6:6-9,12 says, “These words that I command you today shall be on your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise. You shall bind them as a sign on your hand, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes. You shall write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates… then take care lest you forget the Lord, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery.”
These are actions of repetition – the same thing written or told many ways, talked about in many places often and over again. Just like God was telling the Israelites to repeat what He had done – sparing their lives in Egypt and parting the waters of the sea, his challenge was to remember and repeat his mights deeds.
Lord, keep me humble, so I never stop telling of your wonders and ways. May I never grow out of remembering and repeating all you are and everything you have done.
I want to remember, ponder and meditate on the things of the Lord. I’ll be writing this Psalm out and reciting it for a while. Repeat to remember.
