Saturday, April 27, 2013
HOW DOES MY GARDEN GROW?
While many in spring begin thinking how they will spend spring break, the beach is a favorite option.Recreation abounds and the clouds and water offer peace and calm.
But if I don't make time to go there, just let me make time to play in my garden. After planting a vegetable garden only to discover that the squirrels and rabbits over-ruled. my friend, a master gardener, suggested planting perennials.
That I did and it's always invigorating to clear out the weeds and discover what's peeping up through the mulch after a long winter. Some hints he gave me have helped.
*Consider the soil. Keep it rich and vibrant where plants will grow.
*Plant intentionally so the perennials will not all bloom at the same time.
*Watch them multiply and divide them carefully according to their first bloom.
*Weed well as weeds multiply as nuch as flowers, so when they don't bloom, it may
be because of perennial weeds that stunt them.
Hope springs within me as I watch my daffodils and day lilies, tulips and iris galore pump out a rainbow of color in my yard-all because they are unfussy and long lived and want to see the sun-just as I do. Spending my time on these beauties brings joy and hope to me.
Their beauty now helps me to crawl out from the hibernation perhaps I have felt and experienced in past winter days.
Spring blurts out, " Come forth and be renewed." The same Lord Who wakes up my perennials is the One Who wants to renew my spirit and bring courage so I, too, can have hope and know He is in control.
Though I will never earn a Garden Club award, this is one lesson I need.
But if I don't make time to go there, just let me make time to play in my garden. After planting a vegetable garden only to discover that the squirrels and rabbits over-ruled. my friend, a master gardener, suggested planting perennials.
That I did and it's always invigorating to clear out the weeds and discover what's peeping up through the mulch after a long winter. Some hints he gave me have helped.
*Consider the soil. Keep it rich and vibrant where plants will grow.
*Plant intentionally so the perennials will not all bloom at the same time.
*Watch them multiply and divide them carefully according to their first bloom.
*Weed well as weeds multiply as nuch as flowers, so when they don't bloom, it may
be because of perennial weeds that stunt them.
Hope springs within me as I watch my daffodils and day lilies, tulips and iris galore pump out a rainbow of color in my yard-all because they are unfussy and long lived and want to see the sun-just as I do. Spending my time on these beauties brings joy and hope to me.
Their beauty now helps me to crawl out from the hibernation perhaps I have felt and experienced in past winter days.
Spring blurts out, " Come forth and be renewed." The same Lord Who wakes up my perennials is the One Who wants to renew my spirit and bring courage so I, too, can have hope and know He is in control.
Though I will never earn a Garden Club award, this is one lesson I need.
Thursday, March 28, 2013
A GOOD FRIDAY
Imagine a mother saving seventy five cents from the grocery money to hire a taxi to ride to town -back in the forties.
So she tried to prepare us three children, ages six to four, for this special afternoon. It was exciting for us wigglesome children to pack that back seat of the big taxi for our first ride. We behaved fairly well as we peered through the raindrops splashing on the windows until we saw the large theater where we were headed. Mother paid the the cab driver and praised us as we hopped out-hoping that this good behavior continued.
It was Good Friday and stores and businesses were closed from one till three to celebrate a Union Good Friday Service in our little German community in Ohio.
As much as possible, she tried to encourage us to sit quietly for the next few hours. Now that was a big challenge for anyone no matter how beautiful the music. And the speakers weren't really good storytellers either to hold interest for long.
I had just learned to read, so I was glad that the usher offered me a program of my own. I was so proud as I could read the title on the program's cover, THE LAST WORDS FROM THE CROSS.
"What could that mean?" I pondered. I was curious.
The old theater filled up quickly and the lights on the high ceiling dimmed.Soon my brother settled and my sister's head napped.
Being inquisitive, I always liked words. I tucked my feet under my seat so I could sit tall and hear every word.I didn't understand all of what I heard that day, but I recall some words like
* forgive
* love
* forsaken
* wound
* finished
Words, some big, some small, but put together, they told the story how God had the perfect plan of salvation for the world. Those few words I still hear are life-changing.
"Lord, help me to remember my words have power. Help me use them only
to heal,
to help,
and encourage."
Wow, what a Friday to remember!
So she tried to prepare us three children, ages six to four, for this special afternoon. It was exciting for us wigglesome children to pack that back seat of the big taxi for our first ride. We behaved fairly well as we peered through the raindrops splashing on the windows until we saw the large theater where we were headed. Mother paid the the cab driver and praised us as we hopped out-hoping that this good behavior continued.
It was Good Friday and stores and businesses were closed from one till three to celebrate a Union Good Friday Service in our little German community in Ohio.
As much as possible, she tried to encourage us to sit quietly for the next few hours. Now that was a big challenge for anyone no matter how beautiful the music. And the speakers weren't really good storytellers either to hold interest for long.
I had just learned to read, so I was glad that the usher offered me a program of my own. I was so proud as I could read the title on the program's cover, THE LAST WORDS FROM THE CROSS.
"What could that mean?" I pondered. I was curious.
The old theater filled up quickly and the lights on the high ceiling dimmed.Soon my brother settled and my sister's head napped.
Being inquisitive, I always liked words. I tucked my feet under my seat so I could sit tall and hear every word.I didn't understand all of what I heard that day, but I recall some words like
* forgive
* love
* forsaken
* wound
* finished
Words, some big, some small, but put together, they told the story how God had the perfect plan of salvation for the world. Those few words I still hear are life-changing.
"Lord, help me to remember my words have power. Help me use them only
to heal,
to help,
and encourage."
Wow, what a Friday to remember!
Saturday, February 2, 2013
GROUND HOG'S DAY: A LIFE CHANGE
Every potential mother to be is like the new bride who underestimates her new role. Until one has experienced it, you have only imagined it!
Little did I know, although a first son had been born two and a half years earlier when I was handed another son, a bouncing eight pounds fourteen and a half ounce bundle with bulging cheeks that they could be so different. In Lebanon, Tennessee he made his appearance on a frigid Ground Hog's Day in 1965. This little city recorded the coldest place in the state with five degrees below zero. Icy streets almost prevented our arrival at the little private hospital in the historical section.
The first son was a great sleeper, sleeping through the night in just a week. What a blessing!This one whom we lovingly called our Ground Hog wouldn't sleep through for nearly a year.
The first child born in sunny June received dozens of visitors; this child only craved the arms of his family holding him since few could travel.
As I held this bundle of joy, I had no idea all what was wrapped up in this bubbly little guy. Life would be full of unexpected spontaneous things.
As he grew, his mind was always reeling. Mine too, to keep one step ahead. I will never forget his precious piano teacher who taught him more theory than he appreciated. He presented his recital piece as directed and as the families clapped, he (almost) played one that he taught himself, "Once,Twice, Three Times a Lady", one he knew the audience would like.
Sometimes it was the bundle of fresh flowers brought back on his bicycle so Mom would have a Happy Mother's Day.
It wouldn't be the last time I'd hold my breath. His daredevil feats on the dirt bike almost brought gray hair.That was a lot calmer than the cave "speer-lunking"that he and a buddy would later experience.
I recall that he loved to work. He and his older brother set up a business selling their Tandy leather craft work.Whether it was his collection of speakers in his trunk for sale, or the few college sized refrigerators he bought at the end of the year, he rented those and sold them when he finished school.One more way to make change and gas money.
Organizing a few jazz band members he convinced the well-known Green Gables Restaurant in our city that they could play each weekend for the diners. That could have built his confidence to join the Vanderbilt Marching Band later and be paid for it. Or to travel for Trevecca in public relations until he organized the best musicians as Spirit Bound which would stay on the road for almost 16 years.
Maybe it was the trips to Haiti or Dominican Republic as a family that challenged him to later take his family to Peru or work with World Vision that has built long relationship Little could steal his creative mind that runs non-stop.
He loves to give surprises. He knew that Mom would be so proud if he had "honor cords"at commencement and wore them that day.Oh, no.
His inquisitive questions keep coming, " Hey, what do you think of?"
And the list goes on and the ideas never stop. While he was traveling in New York, he heard that Mom would be honored at Frankfort at the state capitol. Only one guest could come, but a phone call came to my hotel room announcing , "Mom, I'm here!" Nothing would keep this Ground Hog away - even if he wasn't invited and didn't have a way back home.
The neon wheels, the flowers, the joy given so spontaneously has not stopped. Looking back over these years, there has been a lot of sacrifice in the spontaneous joy midst the pain.And I still believe that the Lord has a sense of humor especially in the home. God still draws near to us in the ordinary commonplace everyday experiences and places. He comes in surprising ways.(Henry Gariepy)
Thank you, Joel, for being a blessing to so many, especially me. And Happy Birthday to my favorite Ground Hog.
Hugs and laughter,
Mom
Little did I know, although a first son had been born two and a half years earlier when I was handed another son, a bouncing eight pounds fourteen and a half ounce bundle with bulging cheeks that they could be so different. In Lebanon, Tennessee he made his appearance on a frigid Ground Hog's Day in 1965. This little city recorded the coldest place in the state with five degrees below zero. Icy streets almost prevented our arrival at the little private hospital in the historical section.
The first son was a great sleeper, sleeping through the night in just a week. What a blessing!This one whom we lovingly called our Ground Hog wouldn't sleep through for nearly a year.
The first child born in sunny June received dozens of visitors; this child only craved the arms of his family holding him since few could travel.
As I held this bundle of joy, I had no idea all what was wrapped up in this bubbly little guy. Life would be full of unexpected spontaneous things.
As he grew, his mind was always reeling. Mine too, to keep one step ahead. I will never forget his precious piano teacher who taught him more theory than he appreciated. He presented his recital piece as directed and as the families clapped, he (almost) played one that he taught himself, "Once,Twice, Three Times a Lady", one he knew the audience would like.
Sometimes it was the bundle of fresh flowers brought back on his bicycle so Mom would have a Happy Mother's Day.
It wouldn't be the last time I'd hold my breath. His daredevil feats on the dirt bike almost brought gray hair.That was a lot calmer than the cave "speer-lunking"that he and a buddy would later experience.
I recall that he loved to work. He and his older brother set up a business selling their Tandy leather craft work.Whether it was his collection of speakers in his trunk for sale, or the few college sized refrigerators he bought at the end of the year, he rented those and sold them when he finished school.One more way to make change and gas money.
Organizing a few jazz band members he convinced the well-known Green Gables Restaurant in our city that they could play each weekend for the diners. That could have built his confidence to join the Vanderbilt Marching Band later and be paid for it. Or to travel for Trevecca in public relations until he organized the best musicians as Spirit Bound which would stay on the road for almost 16 years.
Maybe it was the trips to Haiti or Dominican Republic as a family that challenged him to later take his family to Peru or work with World Vision that has built long relationship Little could steal his creative mind that runs non-stop.
He loves to give surprises. He knew that Mom would be so proud if he had "honor cords"at commencement and wore them that day.Oh, no.
His inquisitive questions keep coming, " Hey, what do you think of?"
And the list goes on and the ideas never stop. While he was traveling in New York, he heard that Mom would be honored at Frankfort at the state capitol. Only one guest could come, but a phone call came to my hotel room announcing , "Mom, I'm here!" Nothing would keep this Ground Hog away - even if he wasn't invited and didn't have a way back home.
The neon wheels, the flowers, the joy given so spontaneously has not stopped. Looking back over these years, there has been a lot of sacrifice in the spontaneous joy midst the pain.And I still believe that the Lord has a sense of humor especially in the home. God still draws near to us in the ordinary commonplace everyday experiences and places. He comes in surprising ways.(Henry Gariepy)
Thank you, Joel, for being a blessing to so many, especially me. And Happy Birthday to my favorite Ground Hog.
Hugs and laughter,
Mom
Thursday, January 31, 2013
AFTERGLOW
While January has flashed by nearly as speedy as the holidays past, I woke to the reality of our fleeting days.
So tucked within my journal pages are snippets of experiences that have brought me to reality that all of us are flawed and needy and in the midst of something hard. (I hear my Mother's reminder that everyone has something difficult, so treat one another with kindness.)
While the tornado winds this week kept us curled up in in quilts and pillows in bathtubs in not so lady like fashion, the morning light broke through the darkness to reveal the damage. And neighbors moved around the neighborhood to see how they could help. And they did.
It's like the reality of perfect strangers who offered a cup of warmth to share on a difficult day that brought me to tears.
Or even the journal entry that recorded a formal rejection letter of a manuscript that brought me momentary sadness. That same article "Grace in the Garden" brought me a check the next month at the right time from another publisher so my eyes would behold the encouragement just when I needed it most.
Or even the note that intentionally came on a twenty cent postcard on a bitter January day with a message my heart craved.Her unintentional writing error brought me a bushel of hope on a bitter day that could not be measured in degrees.
Welcome to our church. We hope that you felt the presents of God and will return to be with us.
Or even the words my ears beheld on my FM as I got into my car after a sleepless night this week bringing calm and peace as I drove. Little did Katharine von Schlegel know in 1752 that many years later, her lyrics would resonate to my soul...
Be still my soul: the Lord is on my side,
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain,
Leave to thy God to order and provide
In ev'ry change, He faithful will remain.
Be still my soul, thy best, thy heavenly Friend.
So tucked within my journal pages are snippets of experiences that have brought me to reality that all of us are flawed and needy and in the midst of something hard. (I hear my Mother's reminder that everyone has something difficult, so treat one another with kindness.)
While the tornado winds this week kept us curled up in in quilts and pillows in bathtubs in not so lady like fashion, the morning light broke through the darkness to reveal the damage. And neighbors moved around the neighborhood to see how they could help. And they did.
It's like the reality of perfect strangers who offered a cup of warmth to share on a difficult day that brought me to tears.
Or even the journal entry that recorded a formal rejection letter of a manuscript that brought me momentary sadness. That same article "Grace in the Garden" brought me a check the next month at the right time from another publisher so my eyes would behold the encouragement just when I needed it most.
Or even the note that intentionally came on a twenty cent postcard on a bitter January day with a message my heart craved.Her unintentional writing error brought me a bushel of hope on a bitter day that could not be measured in degrees.
Welcome to our church. We hope that you felt the presents of God and will return to be with us.
Or even the words my ears beheld on my FM as I got into my car after a sleepless night this week bringing calm and peace as I drove. Little did Katharine von Schlegel know in 1752 that many years later, her lyrics would resonate to my soul...
Be still my soul: the Lord is on my side,
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain,
Leave to thy God to order and provide
In ev'ry change, He faithful will remain.
Be still my soul, thy best, thy heavenly Friend.
Monday, December 31, 2012
WHAT THEN?
The twinkling lights and shimmering bulbs,
Tinsel and glitter that hung in the night,
The yule log and creche
Remind us of the
Celebration of Love and Hope
Just passed.
But now the decorations come down.
Rubbish goes out and life goes on.
Back to normal, we say.
What then?
This Celebration of Love
that filled our busy days
with excitement and joy and nostalgic memories,
Is this all-what then?
No, no.
This Celebration comes from God,
and it fills the vacuum of emptiness and void
when He comes.
This Celebration never stops and we discover
the love of good will
that some try to work up
Overflows even after the decor is stored
and we find that the greatest gifts given were those
that money could not buy,
nor be discarded or exchanged.
Thank God, the celebration never stops,
once he comes.
What then?
It's never the same again,
this Celebration of Love in our hearts.
Tinsel and glitter that hung in the night,
The yule log and creche
Remind us of the
Celebration of Love and Hope
Just passed.
But now the decorations come down.
Rubbish goes out and life goes on.
Back to normal, we say.
What then?
This Celebration of Love
that filled our busy days
with excitement and joy and nostalgic memories,
Is this all-what then?
No, no.
This Celebration comes from God,
and it fills the vacuum of emptiness and void
when He comes.
This Celebration never stops and we discover
the love of good will
that some try to work up
Overflows even after the decor is stored
and we find that the greatest gifts given were those
that money could not buy,
nor be discarded or exchanged.
Thank God, the celebration never stops,
once he comes.
What then?
It's never the same again,
this Celebration of Love in our hearts.
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
ANTICIPATION OF ADVENT
Odors of spices permeated my little kitchen to prepare for this day.It took days in small amounts of time to decorate the cottage on "Gingerbread Circle"which Austin had mumbled through his younger days until he began chunking words, and he realized that it was Granger View Circle. This Advent Brunch was prepared.
The festive tables were stacked with home-made goodies and pots of steaming wassail that reminded me of past days when a lovely lady, Lucretia Farmer, introduced me to this delightful English drink.She would be pleased if she knew I have carried on her tradition.
The guests were greeted by beautiful young teen-agers who were hostesses in their new vintage aprons. As bubbly as they were, they shared that message.
There is something contagious about anticipation that we feel prior to Christmas. Children catch it easily, but the truth is that in our confused world of values, we need His light. It is not wishful thinking, but light that elevates our spirit out of our doldrums.
This particular day was sunny and unusually bright for early December. It was like God was setting the stage of anticipation for His children.
What would we like to see happen this Advent season? Can we listen for His still small voice and let Him speak in the midst of our busy-ness?
The festive tables were stacked with home-made goodies and pots of steaming wassail that reminded me of past days when a lovely lady, Lucretia Farmer, introduced me to this delightful English drink.She would be pleased if she knew I have carried on her tradition.
The guests were greeted by beautiful young teen-agers who were hostesses in their new vintage aprons. As bubbly as they were, they shared that message.
There is something contagious about anticipation that we feel prior to Christmas. Children catch it easily, but the truth is that in our confused world of values, we need His light. It is not wishful thinking, but light that elevates our spirit out of our doldrums.
This particular day was sunny and unusually bright for early December. It was like God was setting the stage of anticipation for His children.
What would we like to see happen this Advent season? Can we listen for His still small voice and let Him speak in the midst of our busy-ness?
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