Blooming Where We're Planted

What's growing in your garden this summer? Are you enjoying perennials like daisies, back-eyed susans, and day-lilies? Did you plant annuals? Impatiens, geraniums, or begonias? Any pots or raised beds sprouting tomatoes, basil, or lettuce?

I love this time of year even if it is hot and humid! Seems we've waited a long time for the warmth of July. As I write, it's raining . . . a blessing to cheer up our brown lawns and thirsty plants.

I'm not a landscaper by any means, yet so far this seems to be a good season. At least I'm enjoying the process. I haven't done anything out of the ordinary . . . just the usual weed-pulling and a little watering here and there. The blooms are opening up right on time, including my late husband's fragrant pink roses. The edibles have given me a special pleasure: rhubarb, raspberries, blueberries, tomatoes, peppers, and cabbage . . . all in different stages, all offering their own textures and flavors. After a brisk walk, I putter around my yard every morning. breathing in the freshness (and batting away the gnats).

My gardener friend, Susan, says good soil produces healthy plants and nutrient-dense fruit. That's what I'm after. I weed and water, tend and prune, watch and wait. This week, as I worked, I thought about how God places us in the good soil of His grace. The heat, the storms, the pruning, and the waiting may lead us to doubt His divine green thumb, but the Master Gardener has a plan and a purpose for each one of us. Have you noticed how He pulls the weeds of self-reliance and pride? How He trims the suckers that take away our fruitfulness, all the while whispering words of hope?

The Seeking Heart by Francois Fenelon has touched my heart over the past few weeks. I found it in my husband's books and have been reading one short selection each morning when I come in from the garden. The other day, I underlined these words, "[God] trains you to fulfill His noble plans amidst the petty annoyances and aggravations of life. . . . [He] uses the disappointments, disillusionments, and failures of your life to take your trust away from yourself and help you put your trust in Him. . . . Nothing happens without His consent."

These words encourage me to see things from a higher perspective. Just as I often peer over the fence to check on my garden, so God has His eye on us, no matter where we find ourselves growing. Let's not shrivel up in doubt, discontentment, and self-pity. With confidence in His careful tending, let's bloom where He plants us.

Hope for the Harvest

Do you have a garden? If so, what crops have you been harvesting?

Earlier this summer, I enjoyed picking my own chives, rhubarb, blueberries, raspberries, and more recently tomatoes, white onions, and red cabbage. As the leaves begin to showcase their colors, I've also been gathering squash and apples from a local farm market. There's something satisfying about harvesting the fruit of our labor. From the planting to the weeding to the watering to the gathering, it's an earthy experience, to be sure!

This past Friday evening, my small group shared fall harvest dishes. We all sampled each one and compared notes about our gardens. Many around the table had little children, so I (as the grandmother of the group) enjoyed their young enthusiasm. 

Also this weekend, I helped a friend with an estate sale. Her mom, now in an assisted living facility, has lived in the house since 1976. It boasted vintage dishes and clocks, old records and turntables, games and decorations, furniture and linens, all on display in every room of the house. My "assigned" place included the upstairs, where I answered questions and helped in any way I could. One gentleman was startled when I moved, thinking I was a mannequin for sale!

I also heard bits and pieces of conversation as lines of collectors, couples, and families made their way through the house and up the stairs, hands full of treasures. They talked about their grandmother's similar ivory brush and mirror set or commented on the vintage toddler dresses from the 1950s. Many admitted garage-saling was a ritual they enjoyed - even though they already had a house full of "stuff" and really should have a sale of their own.

So, what do baskets of vegetables and an estate sale have in common? I've been thinking . . . gathering the harvest represents the culmination of our gardening efforts when we finally enjoy some tasty rewards. In much more significant ways, we've been sowing seeds for a lifetime. At the end of the season of our lives, we will harvest what we planted. It's not about all we accumulate, the "stuff" of life that will just be passed on. King Solomon wrote, "One who sows righteousness gets a sure reward" (Proverbs 11:18). Paul talks about "the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ" (Philippians 1:11). 

"Whatever one sows, that will he also reap . . . " (Galatians 6:7). I hope we will faithfully plant and water Christ's righteousness as we live out each day - with the assurance of reaping a harvest of blessing when we see Jesus. Something to consider in this lovely season of harvest.

Three Ways to Thrive in Less-Than-Ideal Conditions

At first, I thought it was just another weed sprouting up between the bricks. "I need to get out here and do some weeding," I mused, looking around the patio with a sigh. "All that rain . . . " 

Days later, after several more downpours, I passed my "weed" again, only to discover a tomato plant, several inches high. It looked healthy and even had a couple of blossoms here and there. I decided to leave it undisturbed and see what would happen.

Every day it grew a little more. When I compared it to another tomato plant in a nearby pot, I had to smile. It looked to be thriving. The plant in the pot? Not so much. 

This week, my surprise growing from a crack in the bricks reaches half-way across the path leading to the back door. Not only does it display many blossoms but also little cherry tomatoes, some with a rosy hue. I can't wait to taste their sweetness.

I've done some thinking about this unexpected bit of garden, springing up in such an unlikely place . . . crowded in with little soil, behind the gate, with its stems spread in the direct path of passing feet and hurried exits. There is nothing ideal about this small space yet my tomato plant thrives day after day, about to yield fruit. 

Life is seldom ideal. How many times do we find ourselves in a place we never intended? A place that doesn't seem suited for us? A place that feels crowded between immovable obstacles? We long for space to grow and an environment in which to thrive.

We're not alone. 

Yet, have you noticed that the heroes we respect are seldom those people with perfect circumstances? Like my tomato plant, these role models are the ones who somehow live and grow in less-than-ideal circumstances. Time and time again, they overcome various obstacles. Theirs are the stories that inspire us and offer us courage.

Perhaps they have mastered the art of choosing to be positive and making it a practice to search for the bright side of life. It's likely they have learned to be content in whatever state they find themselves. Most importantly, they've honed the habit of thankfulness in every situation. 

While our humanness and the reality of a fallen world get in the way of our ideals, one little tomato plant can serve as a wonderful reminder of what it means to thrive. 

Summer: A Season to Enjoy . . . A Season to Reflect . . .

SUMMER!

How we've longed for warm breezes . . . fragrant flowers . . . longer days . . . burgers on the grill. What plans do you have to take advantage of this new season? Will you take a trip to the beach or even to a national park or zoo? Are your kids begging to ride their bikes or go to the playground? There's something healing about soaking up the sun, planting petunias, and catching up with neighbors over the back fence.

During those chilly, damp days of late winter and early spring, I looked forward to summer. I enjoy my gardens (both flower and vegetable), my patio with pots of flowers, and the evening sounds as I rock back and forth in the backyard swing. The best part is that my youngest daughter is home from college for a couple of months. She'll be busy with online classes and a part-time job, but it's wonderful to have her here. I'm savoring our time together.

The past ten months have been busy for me . . . namely, writing and publishing my Leader's Guide based on Penned Without Ink. Thanks to Robin Wasser, my book is also now an audio book through Audible. I spoke at four different venues this past spring. I loved rubbing shoulders with women and hearing their stories of how God is giving them the grace to "run with perseverance the race marked out" for them. It has been a time of blessing.

Little by little I'm getting on my feet again but not without some time for prayerful reflection. Where have I been since my husband passed away three years ago? What has God been doing in my life? Looking forward, what would God have me to be and to do next?

I'm seeing the importance of evaluation and assessment - as I go along - so I don't find myself drifting to a place I never intended. Do you agree?

In my quest, I have come across two resources. The first is Essentialism: The Disciplined Pursuit of Less by Greg McKeown. He maintains that "essentialism isn't about getting more done in less time. It's about getting only the right things done." I checked out the audio book from the library. So far, it's been eye-opening. Some of what I'm reading will supplement my toolbox as I move into the future.

The second resource is Humble Roots: How Humility Grounds and Nourishes Your Soul by Hannah Anderson. This book "reveals how cultivating humility-not scheduling or increased productivity-leads to true peace." My sister and daughter recommended this Christian book to me, thinking it would be especially helpful as I try to sort out my next steps.

So, enjoy this new season of warmth, growth, and a little less structure. Yet, let's not allow the season to slip by without also setting aside a little time for reflection. Who or what guides our thinking? Where are we going? And what will we do with the gifts God has given us?

Ready for Anything? When Life Re-defines You # 4

Barry with Jana and Sharon

The tears in my eyes surprised me as I mentioned to my daughter that July 31st would mark the anniversary of our move to Northeast Pennsylvania. Memories flooded my mind in living color as I thought back to that day so long ago . . . How could thirty years have slipped by? How could our little girls, then four and eighteen months, have grown to be young women with children of their own?

I remember that weekend well. We arrived with not much more than a suitcase, a vacuum cleaner, some cleaning supplies, and a couple of lawn chairs. My husband sanded down the worn hardwood floors and coated them with polyurethane by the time the moving truck arrived a few days later. Over the years we've toned down the flowered '70s wallpaper, replaced windows, remodeled the kitchen and bathroom, painted multiple times, and added a double garage and guest room. If our walls could talk, they would tell lots of stories . . . some humorous and some sad but mostly ordinary stories about an ordinary family, trying to hang on to the  extraordinary grace of God as we went along.

Perhaps the reason my emotions got the best of me is because I realized those years made up the peak season of our lives . . . and suddenly, they're gone . . . like "a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes away" (James 4:14).

November 1, 1997: Jana, Sharon, Baby Elisabeth, "Mom"

In 1987, we never could have imagined the blessings that lay ahead . . . the girls' school days, the birth of another baby, our family vacations, Daddy's garden, the secret swing in the woods, trips to the library and reading the Little House series under the old apple tree, singing around the fireplace on Saturday nights, our church family . . .

We never anticipated the many challenges that lay ahead either . . . a life-altering car crash resulting in lifelong limitations (told in Penned Without Ink), the death of three of our parents, job transitions, disappointment with life events--and even with ourselves . . .  

Which brings us back to our series on how to prepare for a crisis of any kind. So far we've highlighted several strategies:

Strategy # 1: Examine your relationship with God.

Strategy # 2: Check your relationships with others.

Strategy # 3: Keep complete and accurate records in one place.

Strategy # 4: Have adequate insurance.

Strategy # 5: Be intentional about how you manage your finances.

Strategy # 6: Simplify.

Today we'll look at Strategy # 7: Update your legal documents.

Keep your HIPAA current. Your privacy is protected. In order for anyone besides you to access your medical information, you need to authorize them to do so in writing. It's just a one or two page document. Usually you would list your spouse, an adult child, or a close friend. On the back of your health insurance card is a 1-800 number you can call to make sure this in order.

Have a will in place. Having an up-to-date will lets you decide what happens to your assets at the time of your passing. It allows you to determine who will be the guardian of your minor children. And it allows you to choose the executor of your estate, a trustworthy person who carries out the terms of your will. Remember a document can always be changed or updated as needed.

Have a financial or durable power of attorney in place, who is the person named in a notarized document who will care for your finances should you become unable to do so. For example of you were in a coma, this person would manage your finances, pay your bills, etc.

Have a medical power of attorney in place, who is the person named in a notarized document who will care for your medical decisions should you become unable to do so.

If you're married, your power of attorney is often your spouse. Your ideal choice is a trusted person who will make good decisions on your behalf, knowing the circumstances along with your wishes.

I've collected more "Ready-for-Anything" articles and information on my Pinterest Page.

Whether you're still at the "moving in" stage of life or you're looking back on thirty years, wondering where the time went, there's value in doing all you can to be prepared, especially in light of life's re-definitions that seem to  crop up unexpectedly. At the same time, let's not forget that we have a God who has proven His faithfulness over and over and is worthy of our trust for the past, present, and future . . . no matter what happens.

I took this photo at Nay Aug Park, July 2017.

Out With the Old - In With the New

Spring!

After digging out of the blizzard of the century, the soft breezes of spring come as a welcome reprieve. Robins' songs greet us with each morning sunrise. Geese honk their way across brighter skies. Peepers sing their joyous refrain as gilded shadows give way to twilight. Brave perennials of all kinds push last year's dead debris out of the way as promising buds burst into bloom. And the grass . . . it just keeps looking greener.

This is the first year for me to do the spring clean-up in the yard by myself. To be honest, I felt overwhelmed when I first took a look around. So, on every nice day, I decided to bundle up (when it's cool), find my garden gloves, and rake for an hour. What a job! For days, I've been raking up matted dead leaves and sticks that have covered up my flower beds. I've picked piles of stones out of the lawn, thrown from the snow plows. I've trimmed bushes and uncovered delicate blossoms that make me smile. And, you know, I'm starting to see a difference, a transformation. I have more to do, but little by little, I'm clearing the way for . . . all things summer.

I bet you've been doing the same thing! There's something about the smell of earth and the promise of warmer days that bring life to our routines. We open our windows to savor the fresh air. We're drawn to the outdoors like a magnet.

I like to think of spring as a reflection of new life . . . of laying aside the cold grip of the old and embracing the warmth of the new. Perhaps this is a good time to reflect on a theme scrawled on parchment to the ancient believers in Colosse:

Since you have been risen with Christ . . . Put off "anger, wrath, malice, slander, and obscene talk . . . seeing that you have put off the old self with its practices and have put on the new self . . .

"Put on then, as God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, bearing with one another and . . . forgiving each other, as the Lord has forgiven you . . . And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony . . ."

So as we go about our springtime chores, let's also remember to ask God to clean up the dead sticks and leaves in our hearts. He "rakes" out the old and plants the new . . . fruits of righteousness . . . transforming us from the inside out.

Lessons from a Broken Doorknob

One day it works just fine, the next day it doesn't. Does this happen at your house, too?!

This time it was the back door. We've always called it the "back" door, but in reality it faces the street just like the front door. Maybe we should say "patio" door!

I knew I was in trouble when turning the doorknob didn't bring the latch in all the way and therefore I couldn't close the door. Hmmm . . . So I gave the door a good push. Success! I got the door closed but then the stubborn doorknob would not budge. There would be no coming and going out the "back" door until . . .

But wait! I could use the front door. The deadbolt worked fine as usual, but on closer examination I discovered the doorknob we seldom used had issues, too. That's all I needed . . . to have this one go completely and then I'd be stuck . . . either in or out. I've figured out a lot of things in the past 22 months but this job . . . well, I needed help.

Why is it so hard to ask for help? To communicate what we need?

Maybe it's because we don't want to bother people or inconvenience them (my default). Or we don't want to be indebted. Or it goes against our American ideal of independence. Or we don't want the added attention.

I've done a little thinking about this the last few days and even talked it over with my girls. There's something about community or interdependence that we miss when think we should be able to do life by ourselves. Perhaps we make assumptions about what's good for others, thereby seeking to manage their experiences. Letting them decide (yes or no) lessens our anxiety and frees us up to ask for what we need, invite friends over, or offer our gifts and abilities.

The night of the door jam, I found myself pacing the floor with the phone in my hand. A voice echoed in my mind: "If you ever need anything, please call me." So, taking a deep breath, I called.

"I'd be glad to help you, Sarah. How about my wife and I stop over tomorrow evening?" My eyes welled up with tears as I stuttered my thanks. The next day, I ran to Home Depot to pick up new doorknobs - and not the $9.97 variety either. In ten minutes flat our friend had the old locks out and the new ones in. Amazing!

And then they stayed. Unhurried, we chatted about our families, churches, and health concerns. About travel plans, my leaky gas meter, the house they would soon be selling. I will always remember their kindness in valuing our relationship enough to visit for a while. They blessed me beyond measure. I will think of them every time I open and close my "back" door.

Later, I thought of the joy I received from bringing a meal to a new mom, cleaning a friend's house before her son's graduation party, and visiting a lonely senior. I recalled the university students who shoveled two feet of snow off my driveway and had fun doing it. My friend with the green thumb who helped me with my garden and shared how coming over lifted her spirits. The brothers who cheerfully put in my air conditioners and left with a few of Barry's Greek books. The rich fellowship with old friends who came for the weekend to replace my bathroom floor. We all need the give and take of community. 

I'm learning . . . God meant it to be that way.

"Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God."

Hebrews 13:16 

In the Garden . . .

Aren't you glad summer's here? We savor the warmth and sunshine. We look forward to vacations and picnics. We catch up with neighbors over the back fence . . . and enjoy the beauty of flowers bordering sidewalks, along roadsides, and in various pots here and there. At the nurseries I joined the spring crowds loading up their carts with zany zinnias, shade-loving impatiens, bright geraniums, and dependable begonias. Maybe you were there, too?

Yet, for me, the real joy came in purchasing a few vegetable plants.  Last fall (October 20), I blogged about our choice to disassemble my late husband's big garden. We grieved one more loss. At the same time, we conferred with a local master gardener-friend, Susan, who helped us create a small lasagna garden in our yard. Perhaps we could still preserve Barry's legacy. 

We chose an easily accessible sunny corner and began the process with Susan's oversight. We layered leaves and hay, using recycled pavers to mark the boundary. Elisabeth carefully transplanted Barry's old fashioned roses, raspberry plants, and a clump of chives, babying them with hopes and prayers that they would make it. 

Then we waited for spring. 

Mid-May found us in the check-out line with red cabbage, lettuce, Swiss chard, cucumber, and tomato plants. We found beet and bean seeds. And Memorial Day weekend, we planted . . . Elisabeth reminding me of Barry's prior instructions. 

There's something wonderful about a garden. Every day, first thing in the morning, I find my way to our little plot. I marvel at the growth, check for more blossoms, smile at the tiny cucs, pull out the weeds while they're still small, and smell the variegated roses. I remember the man with the green thumb who gave me and our daughters an appreciation for God's good earth and its fruit.

And I realize that, difficult as it is, the change of moving forward is good. With an open mind, it brings its own treasures and joy. There's growth in the process.

So . . . if you're local and happen to be in the area, stop by and peek over our white picket fence. And remember . . . God gives us grace to begin again.
  

 

Cut What?

Howling wind, rain beating on the windows, and the sound of hard-working sump pumps makes me want to curl up with a good book and read the day away. Instead, I worked in the basement for a while. My reward? Another armload for the garbage and one for the recycle bin. I plan to find my book sometime today, though. I hope you will too.

March . . . you never know whether you'll find a lion-kind-of-a-day, like today, or a lamb-kind-of-a-day with sunshine and soft fragrant breezes. Either way, it's time to venture into the outdoors, to rake, to prune . . . and to plan. 
 
Our yard needs a lot of work in the pruning department. Overgrown lilac bushes, unnamed foliage, and budding rhododendron have merged into each other, making it too unmanageable for me to care for. Thankfully, I found an expert to help me. 

He brought his blades, cutters, and even an electric chainsaw and set to work, stopping now and again to patiently explain his recommendations. He pointed out dead branches and the places where insect borers made a perfectly round hole into the wood to get inside and cause damage. I looked on, fascinated. Needless to say, when he finished the row of lilacs, the bushes looked pretty sparse." They'll grow back healthy," he assured me. I would never have had the nerve or know-how to make those cuts, yet they will prove necessary for the long-term beauty of the plants.

As I bundled up some of the fallen branches, I couldn't help but remember the words of Jesus in John 15:  

I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser. Every branch in me that does not bear fruit he takes away, and . . . prunes, that it may bear more fruit. . . . Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me (verses 1, 2, 4).

I've been thinking about what dead wood needs to be pruned from my life. About where the borers of faulty thinking have caused damage. How important to allow the Master Gardener to do His work. Can you relate?

So, whether the next few weeks mimic a lion or a lamb, I hope we'll both appreciate the value of a little spring pruning and remember the importance of shedding the "suckers" that hold us back from becoming fruitful and healthy.

Photos from google images

The Tug-of-War Between Dread and Trust

So, what are you looking forward to this year? A long-planned vacation? A family reunion? A conference or get-away weekend?  Spring?! I have a few things I'm anticipating. Visits with my grandboys--and their parents! Planting a variety of veggies in our new lasagna garden we prepared in the fall. Attending the Montrose Christian Writers Conference. Oh! And I have a book coming out in early September.

On the other hand, are you dreading some things coming up? 

I'll be honest with you. I find myself dreading quite a list of things. Things like filling out the FAFSA, a necessary form for my daughter to attend college. Or, figuring out what to do when my crawlspace is suddenly taking on water. Or, tackling the paperwork to obtain another year of health insurance. I find myself a little fearful and anxious about travel and health issues and even maintaining the house long-term.

I'm learning that dread and trust are at opposite ends of the spectrum. If I'm dreading, I'm not trusting the God who promises to walk beside me and be my refuge and strength through both the big and little challenges.

I'm not alone in this tug-of-war between dread and trust. Way back in the days when the Hebrew people found themselves on the brink of the Promised Land, Moses spoke these words, "Dread not, neither be afraid . . . Yet in spite of this word [the people] did not believe (trust, rely on, and remain steadfast to) the Lord [their] God" (Deuteronomy 1:29, 32, The Amplified Bible). They wandered around in the wilderness for forty years before enjoying the blessings God had planned for them.

Lately, I've been challenged by the apostle John's words to "practice the truth" (1 John 1:6). The truth that God invites us to come to the throne of grace to ask for wisdom. The truth that He will never leave us or forsake us. The truth that He has a purposeful plan for my life and will guide me every step of the way. He invites us to trust Him.

With God's grace (and the help of the accountant), the FAFSA and health insurance paperwork are complete. Throughout the past months, over and over, God has given me every reason to trust Him. These serve as monuments to help me remember the truth the next time my stomach knots up and I find myself dreading instead of trusting. 

Dread not. Neither be afraid. 

Photos from Google Images.

A Time to Plant and a Time to Uproot

To everything there is a season,

and a time for every matter or purpose under heaven:

A time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot . . ."

Ecclesiastes 3:1, 2

Today, we uprooted . . .

For nearly 25 years, my husband planted a garden every spring, using a parcel of borrowed land near our home. He planted strawberries, lettuce, potatoes, asparagus, beets, cabbage, beans, peppers, onions, broccoli, Swiss chard, chives, tomatoes, and flowers of every color. Over time, He also "planted" pavers, wooden planks, and even unused siding to keep the weeds down. He dug shallow ditches to drain the land when it rained too much and to irrigate the rows when it didn't rain enough. His system worked--most of the time.

Barry and Sharon in the Garden

He became a legend in the neighborhood, easily visible from the road and from the back yards of our neighbors. He planted, weeded, and did most of the harvesting. My thumb isn't as green as his, so I prepared, canned, froze, and shared. We have memories of our girls picking rock, pulling weeds, picking beans, and cleaning broccoli. Each of them has Dad's green thumb, a wonderful legacy for the next generation.

After Barry passed away in May, we did all we could to keep the garden going. We planted, weeded, and watered. We ate the asparagus he pampered, dug the potatoes he planted, harvested the cabbages and onions he bought and Elisabeth planted per his instructions. We put in ten tomato plants which, thanks to his drainage system, flourished.

But today, we uprooted.

It became apparent that we could no longer keep up the huge garden across the street. It wasn't an easy decision. Summit University's Community Appreciation Day brought a wonderful group of students and a couple of faculty members to the garden. They gathered and hauled planks, buckets, and siding back to the house. They pulled stakes and fence (over 800 pounds in all), loaded it into a pick-up, and hauled it away for scrap. All accomplished with a willing cheerfulness and kindness I will never forget. Sincere thanks to each one. Bless you all.

Yet, there's a certain grieving that comes with uprooting. Uprooting marks the end of an era, the end of one more memory associated with Barry. And because of that, I had a good cry tonight while washing the supper dishes.

It seems we spend so much energy planting, getting established, gathering possessions, living out the American dream. And then, as the years slip away, we find ourselves downsizing, giving things away, simplifying. It's time to uproot.

I'll miss Barry's garden. At the same time I'll treasure the memories and all I learned from the man with the green thumb.