Don't Judge a Book by its Cover!

I took a several girls from the middle school youth group to the local flea market this past Saturday so that they could sell their handcrafted jewelry and art.  Our space was tucked in between this young couple selling plants and this older woman whose space was filled with stuff that was stacked and strewn in all directions. My first impression of her was not very favorable. She seemed a little gruff to me with customers and slightly agitated in general. 

I was curious about her, so I would look over every now and then to see what she was doing. It was during one of these moments that I heard a portion of a cell phone conversation that she was having regarding a very important matter to her – the abduction of her two beloved dogs. In that conversation she told the person on the other end that she had been praying about the situation.

I have to admit that I thought this woman was a little strange in appearance and manner and trust me, I was judging her accordingly. Putting it bluntly – I didn’t think she was someone I would like to know.  However, there was this one thing that drew me to her space, not her, and it was that she had tons of old jewelry that she was selling. I am always looking for nice beads or pendants, etc., for the girls to use in their jewelry making, so I made my way over to check out her jewelry.

She ended her phone call while I was poking around in the jewelry. I noticed that she still seemed very distraught. [Good news flash - I am glad to know that when push comes to shove, my compassion for the hurting will overcome my hesitancy to engage a “strange” person.]  I asked her what was going on and she explained her dog situation to me in more detail. Because I had heard her say she was praying, I asked her if she was a person of faith - a believer. She immediately said yes, introduced herself as Gloria (there is some irony in that for sure), and we talked a minute about the power of prayer. 

After our short conversation, I moved on to look at more of her jewelry. You have to know this about me: I love order. Gloria’s jewelry, nor anything else she was selling for that matter, was orderly in any way, shape or fashion! I could not resist myself and began to sort her jewelry for her. (Sigh – I love sorting.)

You can see a little of Gloria's space in the background of this photo that I cropped

After a few minutes had passed, Gloria noticed what I was doing and came over to me with more stuff – she was not shy about receiving my help or put out by me not asking her first. As a matter of fact, this is what she shared with me. (I am getting tears in  my eyes as I recall this story). She said that her helper had not shown up that morning and she was thinking that she did not know how she was going to manage getting all her things out by herself - the more stuff out = the more money made and she needed the money.

She proceeded to tell me this story. 

There was a little princess who lived in a castle and she heard a strange noise in the attic. She cried out, “Oh no, it must be a mouse.” She heard the noise again, but this time it was louder. She cried out, “Oh no, it must be a rat! She then prayed and asked God to help her. The next noise she heard was, “Meow.” 

At the end of the story, Gloria explained that God had answered the little girl’s prayer by sending her a cat to take care of the problem. She went on to say, “You are my cat’s meow! God sent you to help me.” I was touched that I was her answered prayer -  just think, I almost missed it. 

I spent a lot of time with Gloria sorting her jewelry and displaying it nicely and I even found a large silver broach that said “Meow." I am not even kidding!  We both laughed when I showed it to her and she immediately pinned it on her shirt. Does God have a sense of humor or what? She was quite the character and we shared stories and laughs for most of the day. She gave small gifts from her things to the girls – including Sara, who could not resist the sorting opportunity either and came over to help me out (like mother, like daughter) - and me. She would say things like, “God told me to give this to you.” 

Gloria was not what I expected or judged her to be.  I am happy that my heart overruled my mind when it came to how I treated her - that I was able to use my "better" judgment, that is my "God's heart" judgment, in this situation.

The Story of My Garden

As many of you already know, I planted a garden this year. I was just in the mood to see something grow! However, as I work the garden, I am seeing so many similarities in how God works in the garden of my heart. Without me spelling them out and as you read this blog, can you see what I am talking about?

When I first began gardening, it was all about the preparing of the land to receive the seeds/seedlings. I tilled the spot (more than once) to loosen the soil and soften the ground. In the process of tilling, many roots and rocks were exposed. I pulled, tugged and dug to get these hinderances out of my garden spot. It was very laborious! 

Once the soil was complete and I went to purchase my plants, I was advised by the local Ace Hardware garden expert that I would need to "amend" the soil as well. This meant that I would need to add some type of compost or potting soil to make the soil porous and loose so that the small plant roots could push through it. Lastly, I was told that I would need to add fertilizer to ensure the plants have all the nutrients that the soil might be lacking in order to promote optimal plant growth. Whew! This is getting complicated. 

Having done all that, I began to plant. I gently and tenderly placed my flowers and veggies in the soil that I had so patiently prepared. When I was done, I stood back and admired my work. It looked great and I was pleased. Then, things began to happen that I did not anticipate. Some plants came up right away, but others didn't. I followed the direction on the seed packets, so I could not imagine what happened. I checked every day - nothing. Finally I got a clue and realized that even though I gave it my best effort, these particular plants were not going to cooperate! However, I did not give up. I simply planted some new seeds and they grew just fine. 

Things were going along great. Everything had sprouted and these gorgeous little green plants began to develop and produce what I will call "fruit" from

here on out. Then, out of nowhere, 4 of my tomato plants died. I found out another lesson - just because something appears healthy on the outside, it doesn't mean it is healthy on the inside. My beautiful tomato plants had contracted a disease that blocked the uptake of water and other nutrients, which caused them to slowly welt and die - with tomatoes on the vine! Uugggh! I pulled them up and disposed of them for fear that their disease would affect the other 4 plants that I still had.  It hurt me to pull those once healthy plants up and throw them on the brush pile - such a loss of goodness that could have been enjoyed . 

With that situation behind me, I once again admired my nice, orderly garden. The plants grew lush and became laden with their "fruit." One day after a particularly heavy downpour, I went out to check my garden and I found several of my plants lying on their sides. The earth had softened and the fruit was heavy, so they just fell over. No worries - I can fix this. I could see that my plants were going to need a little support, so I rummaged through some old wood scraps and came up with some stakes. These once droopy plants now stand tall again.

My latest incident involves one of my main gardening concerns - animals that like veggies! I was checking my garden when I noticed that my cucumber plants looked a little funny. Sure enough, some animal had come in the dark of night to nibble away at a couple of them! I am actually surprised that it hadn't happened before now. Fortunately, the damage was not unto death. The plant will survive, but it will have to "start over" again. All that growth gone in a blink of an eye. My hope is that the unexpected pruning will actually cause the plant to grow back even stronger. Time will tell and I will let you know.

I just have to say that there is nothing like picking veggies from my very own garden. It is my reward - to enjoy the harvest. So far, my enjoyment has been limited to jalapeno peppers! It is amazing how creative I have been with just one item from my garden. This particular item has added spice and flavor to many dishes! I am looking forward to picking some bell peppers next. 

I will end today's blog on one very important note. A garden has to be maintained! If things are not addressed right away, things are likely to get out of control. Weeds in particular! It is a constant chore to keep them out of my garden. It is almost a daily task, but the result is so worth it. 

If anyone should see my garden, they would know without a doubt that I care for it and have invested much time and energy to ensure that it has the best chance possible to grow into maturity and share its bounty with me and others.

Catching Up

Wow! It has been so long since I have blogged. My husband told me recently that I don't just blog, I design  - that may be part of the problem. I was being so detail oriented and wanting things just so that it was taking me a long time to post one entry.  I grew weary. It seemed like work. The other contributing factor is that I have been doing other things. I shared about this creative juice (for lack of a better term) that started flowing out of me, but, to my surprise, it began to flow in multiple directions at the same time! So, here is what I have been up to instead of blogging my contemplations and memoirs:

Photography:

Gardening:

Worm Composting:

Raising Chickens:

Plus the multitude of other family, friend, and church stuff I love to do!

These activities have provided me with great blog material and I regret (mildly) not writing some of it. I hope to do better in the coming days - even if it comes out messy and imperfect. Plus, does anyone really care about perfection other than me? If they do, it will give them a chance to practice grace.

Blessings to you all and remember, if you don't hear from me on a consistent basis, it is most likely because I am busy living life instead of writing about it!!! 

Taking Risks for the Sake of Freedom

I was having some “play” time in prayer with the Lord the other day and to my surprise, he showed up in my mind’s eye on a bike. He wanted to go bike riding with me. What? Why? Of all the things we could do, why would he choose bike riding? Then I got it. He was trying to show me something. He was reminding me of the freedom I enjoyed as a child when I rode a bike - like the wind blowing in my hair, exploring places just beyond my normal boundaries, getting away from everything and everybody when things became too overwhelming. He then invited me to jump a ramp.  Whoa! Wait a minute! This was a whole different level of bike riding that I wasn’t so sure about. Remember those homemade contraptions? I do and I never once had the courage to jump one. I was perfectly content to have my feet planted on the ground.

Or was I?

Jesus said he would go first and he did – without incident mind you. He then motioned for me to go. I shook my head no. I was too afraid. I so wanted to feel the exhilaration of being off the ground, flying through the air without a care in the world, to experience something new, that appealed to me. It was the landing that put me off. 

What if I wiped out? What if I got hurt? What if I failed?

The thoughts that were running through my head were suddenly replaced with another image. I began to see things as Christ saw them.  I saw myself pedaling as fast as I could, bent down low toward the handlebars, with a fierce look of determination on my face and I was headed for that ramp. I went for it with all the gusto I could muster up. I hit the board with a “whomp” and was airborne. Oh, what joy! I was smiling and taking such pleasure in the experience that I temporarily forgot that what goes up must come down. Then it happened. The bike left me. It just flew off into the wild blue yonder and there I was flying through the air. 

I thought to myself, “See, I told you this wasn’t going to turn out good!” 

But it did. Standing on the other side of that ramp wasn't another board, it was Jesus. He had his arms held out and “whoosh,” that is where I landed. He was laughing, not at me, but for me. How do you laugh for someone? It is sort of like clapping or cheering except it is so deep and rich that it comes out as laughter. Musical, adoring, I could kiss your whole face, laughter! 

At that moment, I caught the vision. 

To gain freedom, and the inexpressible joys of it, sometimes you have to take risks. 

Is it scary? Yes! Is it worth it? Yes! 

Now granted, there have been times in my life where I felt like I took risks for the sake of freedom and the outcome was not as smooth as this vision. I did not land in the cushy arms of Jesus. Why? I believe one reason is that the sovereign God who created us gave us a free will and free will can be used for good or evil. There are times when we are airborne and someone comes out of nowhere exercising their free will, blindsides us and knocks us to the ground - hard. Sometimes, in exercising our own free will, we make tactical errors or use poor judgment and that gets us off course and we miss the target - can you say "crash and burn?" I can. Been there done that a few times. The fact of the matter is that neither of these scenarios changes the truth:

Jesus is still there. He is the constant factor that does not change. 

If we land in His arms, he rejoices with us. If we land on our faces, no matter the cause, He picks us up, brushes us off, and tends to our injuries. In both cases, from my experience, He says, 

“Go ahead, give it another try. I will be right here."

Now that's freedom!

Another World (not the soap opera)

Memoirs #4

Another favorite spot of mine was the small strip of grass that was in the backyard. It wasn’t much because the yard was small and cluttered with things and there was always the remnant of an old garden taking up space.  I would lie down in the grass on my back and be as still as I could. I would not move a muscle. 

I would open my eyes wide and stare up at the sky. I would watch the clouds drift by and marvel at their ability to change shape and disguises or to disappear all together. What power. What freedom. 

Sometimes I would stare into the sun instead. Blinding myself momentary so that all I could see were the funny specks flying around in my eyes and then waiting for my sight to return so that I could do it again. I marveled at the strength of the sun to take away my natural eyesight and make me see things that I could not see before.  

I liked lying on the ground, feeling it connecting with my body. I so wanted to be a part of something big, why not the earth? Could I just for a moment will myself to be a part of another world. Not really, but I could enjoy the itchy sensation of the grass on my arms and the tiny movements of things under me as I pressed into their world - the warmness or coolness of the earth creeping into my body as I waited for my desire to stay there forever to pass. 

My Burden Carrier

Memoirs #3

The focal point of my yard was not the house, no sir. It was the big tree just to the left of the front door. Out of its side ran a low, long limb, a strong arm just waiting to be used, daring me to take it on. “Look at me,” it said, “strong and able, so do what you will with me.” I accepted the challenge by using it to put up a swing made of old rope with a piece of scrap wood for a seat.“There, “ I said, “Can you handle that?” It replied “Yes, and more,” for which I was grateful because I had more to give. Over the years, not only did that swing bear my weight, it also bore the weight of the things I was carrying inside me. Secrets. Dark secrets. Heavy secrets. 

It was a grand tree and a loyal friend, one that I would leave behind when the time was right. I saw the tree many years later, after making my great escape, and I was heart broken to see how ravaged and tired it looked. Did my secrets do that? Did my burdens zap the life right out of my friend? I imagined myself tying a yellow ribbon around its base and telling it to die and find peace, that it isn’t needed any more, that I am okay. Let go. I did. All is well now.

Then I think, why would I want a faithful friend to die? Why not encourage it to use its roots to go deep in search of living water that it could use to create the strength and vitality of new life? It’s there, waiting to be tapped into, waiting to rush up its trunk and into it branches, giving it the power to stretch and reach into the sky as far as it dares - into the hope and promise of a new day.

It worked for me - Living Water. Shouldn't I offer the same hope to my withering, dried up friend? Shouldn't I introduce it to my new burden carrier? One that never grows weary or tired. One that can carry the burdens of the whole world with strength to spare.

Childhood Memoirs

I couldn't sleep one night so I decided to do one of my favorite things, read. I finished the book I was reading called "The Secret LIfe of Bees," but I still wasn't sleepy. There was an interview with the author, Sue Monk Kidd, in the back of the book, so I began to read it in hope that sleep would soon come. Instead, I made a great discovery, a real treasure! In the interview, the author made this statement in reference to her memoir writings:

"I think many people need, even require, a narrative version of their life. I seem to be one of them. Writing memoir is, in some ways, a work of wholeness."

A chord was struck in me and a sound wave of inspiration began to vibrate inside me, working its way to the surface. The thought of writing about my childhood had been something I had been toying around with for some time. However, I just couldn't find the purpose in it. To what end would I write about myself? 

Wholeness. 

Now that speaks to me of purpose. One of my long standing prayers to God has been "please make me whole."

Wholeness: "An undivided or unbroken completeness or totality with nothing wanting*."

If there is even a remote possibility of God bringing wholeness into my life by means of me writing my memoirs (memories), then how can I resist? I am an adventurer at heart and this would definitely be a grand adventure, as well as a huge leap of faith! 

I admit that I have been a little perplexed and somewhat overwhelmed as to where to begin. Over thinking things always bogs me down. So, I have decided just to jot down memories as they come to me and post them in bits and pieces.  I am not sure yet just how much the Lord wants me to reveal through memoir, but I want to warn you that sometimes what I share may be very "real" and sometimes raw in nature. Unfortunately, brokenness defined my life for a very long time and I can already see that evidence of it will seep out into my writing.

My goal - to  invite you to a view of just one of my many paths to wholeness, all which lead to the source of wholeness - Jesus - and to encourage you to seek out your own path to wholeness.

Here goes...

Snippet #1:

Most of my early childhood was lived out in a little obscure bayside town in Florida called Eastpoint. It was neatly tucked away between its sister towns of Carrabelle and Apalachicola. It was one of those towns that if you blinked while passing through it, you might just miss it all together. Eastpoint was easy to navigate. I never heard tell of anyone ever getting lost within its limits. It was divided up by a front road (also called the main road and technically called hwy. 98), a back road, and a few dirt side roads that had no names. Oh yeah, there was that extra road at the very edge of town that we called the dump road because that's where it led, to the town dump. By nature of its location, no one resided on that road.  At the intersection of the front road and one of those old dirt side roads is where my house sat. 

From this corner lot vantage point, this ninety-degree angle, I watched the world pass by me. Occasionally I would get a lift of the hand or a nod of the head, acknowledging my presence, evidence that I could be seen even though I had my doubts. To be fair, how much sight does a ninety-degree angle really afford passersby into the life of someone else? Can people be held accountable for their limited vision, their inability to see beyond what's right in front of them? Probably not, at least not according to my experience. Some days I wished someone would see past the facade, the smiling face and my own lift of the hand, to what was really going on around me and inside me. At other times, it filled me with great fear to think that someone would see the reality of my life. 

The good news is, even though I wasn't fully aware of it at the time, just catching glimpses of hope here and there, there was One who could see all things, not only what was, but what was to come - a full-circle view. Nothing was hidden from Him. Oh, how the hand of God plays out in such a bittersweet way in the lives of those that call upon His name and I did call, many, many times.

Snippet #2:

A fence surrounded my house. Not a very good one mind you. It was made from wire and wooden posts. My imagination would have it be a chain-linked fence with metal posts and a nice gate, but in my heart I know that isn’t so and, actually, I am glad. 

There's no character in a well-put together fence. A fence of good character needs evidence of having been climbed over dozens of times, leaning slightly here and there, toe holds a plenty, and spots sagging under the weight of blackberry vines and wild, running rose bushes. 

Another thing - what is a gate that doesn’t announce one’s coming and going with a faithful creak? Rude, that’s what. No, my gate was nice and polite, greeting those that came in and speaking farewells to those that left. In addition to its role as greeter, it also served as a sentry. It alerted me to the people who were about to enter my world, giving me time to think about how I was going to respond – a warm welcome or a quick exit out the back door. Sometimes, according to who was walking through that gate, it was very important that I not be caught unaware.

(*wordnet.princeton.edu/perl/webwn)