Pansies in the Dark

by   January 21, 2026 with No Comments

By Lynna Clark

My mom-in-law Nina gave us a little scare last week. She’s 86 and one of the sharpest funniest people I know. Her heart got out of rhythm and she had to go to the hospital. I told her she had been eating too many Javi’s Duros De Harina [chili and lime seasoned wheat chips]. She loves those things and stocked up when she found them on sale for a dollar a bag. No wonder her heart was doing the cha-cha!

Her nurse’s name was on the white board. What a beautiful young lady with a Jamaican accent, and she was very sweet to Nina. As she left the room, we asked Nina how to say her name. She said “It’s Hawa, as in Hawa ya?” Leave it to Nina to entertain us while she’s sick. Thankfully her hospital stay was short.

Lately she has also developed a painful knee. It sometimes gives out and causes her to lose balance. So she keeps her cane handy. I walked over to see her and she asked me to look for it. “I know I haven’t been outside today, so it’s got to be here somewhere!” She had hobbled all over the house looking.

After checking in all the obvious spots, then under furniture, and the places we’ve found it hanging before [on the back of chairs, kitchen cabinet handles, bathroom towel racks, etc.] I finally gave up.

The next day, her daughters came over to clean house for her since she’s still not feeling well, and they are giving Amanda a baby shower. Jo called. “You’ll never guess where we found mama’s cane. Gail found it in the refrigerator.”

Bless her heart. Nina had been cleaning out her fridge and had hung it there while she worked. Then it just blended in with the metal racks.

I love this woman.

As bad as she feels, she is determined to host the shower. In her thinking that includes waaayyy more than one might think. She’ll make about 50 tiny bows to pin on guests for a game. She will wrap small gifts for prizes and a blue hydrangea must be purchased for the guest of honor. Doilies will line the plates. Flower pots need to be painted. Blue sheets must be ironed so white lace can cover them and the tables. She is also hoping her blue and purple irises open in time for the guests to enjoy them. What a production.

David couldn’t get her on the phone the other night so he decided to walk over to check on her. There she was outside planting pansies in the dark.

pansies

I can’t imagine life without her.

Seasons and Waiting

by   January 19, 2026 with No Comments

By Susan Berry

Seasons & Waiting

Acts 14:17

“Nevertheless He did not leave Himself without witness, in that He did good, gave us rain from Heaven and fruitful seasons, filling our hearts with food and gladness.”

Romans 8:24-25

“ For we were saved in this hope, but hope that is seen is not hope; for why does one still hope for what he sees?

But if we hope for what we do not see, then we eagerly wait for it with perseverance.”

Winter is not an easy season for one whose heart resides in the garden. Even after twenty two years of growing many gardens, I struggle to wait for Spring and the hope it holds.

I long for the aroma of warm soil, of seeing a tiny seed push from beneath the soil and peek through with green leaves full of life and hope.

Seasons in life are the same as seasons in nature. Change, abundance, loss, sorrow, hope, joy. We walk through the season’s waiting, trusting and hoping that God’s love and faithfulness will bring the fulfillment of the season.

January, for gardeners and farmers is a time of planning, reflecting and preparation. For me, it is when I wait with anticipation for the new year’s seed catalogs to arrive. Each day I run to the mailbox hoping to find a treasure of new seeds.

As we are sometimes encouraged by our Pastors’ messages in January to reflect on the past year and how we could improve our personal walk with the Lord. We learn and hope as we reflect that the coming year will bring personal growth.

Winter is also when gardeners plan their new gardens for the coming Spring. We journal and draw and rotate our beds so that our new crops will flourish and be bountiful.

Our life journals can have the same design and plan for us. We endeavor to remove what weeds may have crept in last season. We look to the positive growth and plan to nurture and feed those areas even more.

As I press on through the short dark cold days of Winter I hold to hope and God’s plan for my life. Knowing He has all the perfect seeds and will hold them for me until it is the perfect time to sow them.

Food of the word and gladness of our salvation. Our joy and sustenance through the Winters of our life.

I am so blessed to be a part of EncouragingU. As a follower of Jesus Christ and a Horticulturist I hope to share my journey with you by sharing the teachings God has spoken to my heart as I go to the garden with Him. I love to encourage others to venture into gardening and benefit from growing their own food. Our bodies are the temple for God’s glory and eating healthy is one way to glorify Him. I can be reached at figandhoney878@gmail.com. 

God Bless,

Susan Berry

Cold Days, Quiet Puzzles

by   January 18, 2026 with No Comments

By Ashlie Miller

I have a fondness for puzzles; maybe you do, too. Five years ago, puzzle and board game sales increased as people found themselves housebound for weeks and months on end. My oldest son bought me a 1000-piece puzzle this Christmas. I smiled and brought out a different 1000-piece puzzle later in the day that I knew he would enjoy (a Van Gogh-inspired one) and said, “Let’s get to work!”

I especially enjoy puzzles in the winter. Christmas busyness has passed, and productivity is stalled for a bit, yielding to opportunities to just be present. There is a beautiful quietness as one sorts edge pieces, those with words or unique patterns, and then the rest of the pieces. Isn’t it interesting that we see our desire for structure in life in something as simple as completing a puzzle? Usually, we try to get the frame – the edges – in place to help us understand scope and context. Some pieces seem very ordinary, nothing special – all those black pieces with no variation in shading. But, just like life, some parts are not meant to be showstoppers; they just exist to support the greater whole of what we see and experience.

In my most recent puzzle, I became frustrated at repeating patterns, even though they were patterns from art I enjoy. While unique patterns made some parts easier, a repetition of a background or color scheme could throw us off and stall our process. Discernment is key to getting things into the right alignment, both in puzzles and in life.

The daily ritual and resoluteness for completing the larger puzzles remind me of the importance of just doing the next thing. It may not be flashy, progress may seem minuscule, but learning to faithfully show up patiently and dutifully is a lesson that is rarely learned through something so lovely.

Then, we come to the last piece of the puzzle – the most sacred of pieces. Everyone jokes about how they will sweep in and put in the last piece – usually the ones who have only helped place four of the pieces and then abandon the project for more exciting things. I was very honored when one son, who stuck with me the longest on this journey, quietly held the last couple of pieces and then handed me the last one – the keystone – to place in the last hole. No ceremony or regalia, just a knowing look that we stuck it out. Things we could not see as we worked through the jigsawed pieces now became visible and obvious. “Why did that piece not really fit there? How did I miss placing this one here?!” There is a quiet emotion resonating through me as we look at the whole picture. A bit like our lives, a whisper calls to our hearts of longing for wholeness and searching our entire lives for it.

At last, it is time to consider when it is appropriate to tear apart the puzzle and put it away. I have heard nasty rumors of families who, upon completing, have a family member who rips the puzzle off the table in a grand gesture. I guess that is like ripping off the band-aid. I suppose the lesson for those of us who do not glue and frame our puzzles is that we can be okay when meaningful things are taken apart. It does not mean our time has been wasted. We have learned something long-lasting in the process.

Time start a new puzzle…

Ashlie Miller gets lost in puzzles in Concord, NC. You may email her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.

Ordinary People

by   January 17, 2026 with No Comments

By Doug Creamer

Ordinary People

            Have you ever looked around your church and realized how lucky and blessed you are to be in the family of God? My family has been through some challenging things recently, and my church family has stood with me and supported and encouraged me through it all. We never know how much a hug, pat on the back, or simply asking about a situation can really make a big difference.

            Knowing your church family is praying for you and with you can make all the difference in whether we press through or give up. You don’t have to be a giant in the faith or a designated church leader in order to offer your prayers, love, and support to your church family. The Bible teaches us that the elders are called to pray for church family members. That doesn’t mean that we can’t pray for people in our church family. Our prayers are powerful and effective.

            My recent Sunday school lessons have been about the twelve disciples. I have been digging into their lives and have found some very interesting things. One of my favorite lines is that God calls ordinary people to do extraordinary things for His kingdom. The twelve disciples were just ordinary guys who were called out to turn the world upside down.

            The Bible tells us that Judas took his own life after he realized what he had done. The Bible also tells us that one disciple was martyred, but tradition holds that nine others were also martyred for their faith in Jesus. It is believed that John, the remaining disciple, died of old age. The disciples paid a high price to get the word out that the Savior had come.

            Jesus picked ordinary guys to be His followers. Several were fishermen. I imagine these guys were not holy men. They probably believed in God and knew the promise of a coming savior, but these guys were busy working at their trade. They probably missed services at the synagogue to go fishing. They probably lived self-centered lives.

            Matthew was a tax collector and would have been hated by his fellow community members. Imagine the distrust between Matthew and his fellow disciples. Then you have Simon the Zealot, who was at least training to assassinate Roman leaders. We don’t know if he actually killed any Romans. He would have had a rebellious spirit, ready to participate in, if not lead a revolution against Rome.  

            These are the kind of men Jesus chose to surround Himself with during His time here on earth. They were ordinary men with all kinds of issues and problems that He turned into the disciples that we all know and love. It was these very unlikely men who literally gave their lives in order to spread the gospel.

            It was these guys who healed the sick. They healed the crippled and restored the sight to the blind. They raised the dead. They restored the minds of those struggling with mental illness. They preached to the lost and saw them get born again. They were brave enough to speak truth to power. They saw visions, angels, and had spiritual dreams.

            What is the difference between those guys and us? Obviously, they walked and talked with Jesus. But can’t we walk and talk with Jesus? Jesus empowered them by the Holy Spirit to do all the things they did. But didn’t Jesus give us the same Holy Spirit? You and I are just ordinary people, but how are we really any different than those early disciples? Just like them we have hang ups, doubts, worries, fears, failures, and we have all probably done things that don’t seem holy or very godly. Could Jesus use people, ordinary people, like you and me to reach the people in our sphere of influence with the love of God? 

            I want to encourage you to consider that maybe God can use an ordinary person like you and me to reach our world with God’s love. Maybe He will do some miracles through us. I’ve seen and heard of some in my lifetime. Maybe we are the ones that God wants to send to this generation. He doesn’t need super holy people to do His work. He needs ordinary people just like you and me who are willing to step out in faith and share our stories with the people He brings our way. Then we, like the disciples of His day, can step back and watch Him and the Holy Spirit do incredible things in people’s lives. He doesn’t need someone special, just someone ordinary like us!

Contact Doug Creamer at PO Box 777, Faith, NC 28041or doug@dougcreamer.com

Ways of a Young Fool

by   January 16, 2026 with No Comments

By Roger Barbee

            In May 1968 I graduated from college with a degree in English. I went home that summer to work in Cannon Mills, Plant 1, but as soon as August came, and Uncle Grant sold me that two-toned green rambler, I headed to what I viewed as the “promised land” of the North, which for me was Washington, D.C. I remember on the long drive to my apartment in Maryland seeing a “Wallace for President” sign somewhere in N.C., and thinking, “No more of that.”

            During my college years I became good friends with William MacPherson, who had grown up in Arlington, Va. I visited his home and thus, D.C., over the four years of gaining an education. I came to think of the area as the “land of milk and honey” for such a fired-up, young radical as I. The time of my graduation was the time of George Wallace and “Clean” Gene, who were candidates for President. It was also the time of Dr. King, Jr.’s assassination and the subsequent riots. It was the time of protests. It was the time of Howard Zinn and nightly newscasts of battles in Vietnam, complete with the day’s body count. It was an exciting time to be twenty-one years old and beginning a teaching career in a rural county of Maryland’s Eastern Shore.

            Or so I thought until I recently ran across a reference to a man named Clarence Jordon. Jordon was a strong believer in the Sermon on the Mount, and in the fall of 1941 when he met a gentle missionary named Martin England who believed as he, they began dreaming of establishing Koinonia Farm as a way of countering the plight of farmers.  Life on Koinonia Farm would follow Scripture, especially the Sermon on the Mount. In 1942 they purchased a run-down farm southwest of Americus, Georgia, and the work to establish a community of all people began. But, the local population objected to the Koinonians eating together because some were white and some black, and just wages were paid to black workers which went against the rules of Jim Crow. Violence was not long in coming and until his death of a heart attack in 1969, Jordon peacefully followed the tenets of the Sermon on the Mount as angry whites burned down buildings of the farm, stole from it, destroyed its equipment, shot at its members, and local merchants refused to sell seeds and fertilizer to the farm. In describing the personalities warped by hate that tried to kill the farm, Jordon said, “We have too many enemies to leave them without hope.” I am indebted to Joyce Hollyday for some of this information.

Since reading the reference to Jordon and the Koinonia Farm, I have read his Cotton Patch Version of Luke and Acts, a brief sketch of his life by Joyce Hollyday, and have begun his commentary on the Sermon on the Mount. I am captured by his faith, adherence to Scripture, and his legacy of Koinonia Farm. And I can’t help but go back to my years of college in the 1960’s and my mistaken belief that everything I desired was in a large, northern city.

A son of the South, I highly anticipated the time I could move to a world more suited to my beliefs—equality for men and women, peace, honest work, learning, in brief, everyone coming together to make the world better. I saw my dream in D.C. and went there. But, now, all these years later in 2018, I “discover” a man and a place that had everything I desired. Now, I am not fool enough to think that, going back these fifty years, everything would be peachy. Perhaps Jordon would not have appreciated me or my ways; maybe I not his. So be that. Yet, I am intrigued by my not seeing what was almost right in front of me and held all that my radical heart desired in 1968.   

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