A gardening rule I’ve come to appreciate is this: When combining plants in a large container always use a thriller, a filler, and a spiller. The thriller is the plant that stands tall and gives presence. The filler is usually understated and fills in the gaps. The spiller flows gracefully over the sides adding beauty. Here’s a little example from my porch. What I really love about this combination is that it was all free. The tall bromeliad was a gift from my sister a few years back. It bloomed a giant red blossom and I hear it’s still got the potential to bloom. Right now, I’m not so sure. It seems to be content with just standing tall in the background.
The middle plants with the dark purple and gray stripes are Wandering
Jew. My friend Ann broke off a few sprigs of that and I kept it indoors
in a bottle of water over winter. Now it fills in the gaps nicely.
The bright chartreuse vine in the front is a sweet potato plant which
also lived on my windowsill over winter. Together in the beautiful pot
my daughters gave me, the combination is kinda pretty, especially for no
money spent. Don’t you love making something out of nothing?
Some of us are still waiting to bloom. A lot of us are just glorified
weeds. Some feel completely unnecessary. But the lovely blue pot
wouldn’t be nearly as attractive if any of the parts were missing. I
think it’s the combination of different strengths and weaknesses that
makes the prettiest bunch.
Whether you stand tall, fill in the gaps, or spill over gloriously
showing off God’s goodness, you are a beautiful part of the garden of
grace.
“How strange a body would be if it had only one part! Yes, there are
many parts, but only one body. The eye can never say to the hand, ‘I
don’t need you.’ The head can’t say to the feet, ‘I don’t need you.’ In fact, some parts of the body that seem weakest and least important are actually the most necessary.”
When
I sit down to work on my column each week, I reflect back on my week and think
about how God has been working in my life. I know I write a lot about gardening,
but that is a time when my mind and spirit can concentrate on the Lord and I
can hear so much from Him. My reflections from the garden may not be as
positive as usual, as the deer came and feasted on my corn. I am not happy with
the deer.
We
did have some luck from the garden. We have enjoyed some potatoes and beans.
The tomatoes are in a lull right now. Some of the vines have died, but others
are putting on some flowers and bringing me hope of a late fall harvest of
fresh tomatoes. The first squash plants are dying back too, but I do have some
that I planted later that are blooming pretty right now.
You
see, it is easy for me to write about gardening. I do wish that we could get
some rain over here. There has been rain all around us recently, but my yard is
really dry. I look out and see some of the trees have leaves that are turning
yellow. I am spending lots of time watering in order to keep things alive.
As
I look back at last week’s calendar, none of that appears on it. What does appear
is notes of friends who lost a loved one. Two people from my church lost loved
ones and I wanted to be there for them. I go to a relatively small church and
we are like family. When one of us is hurting, we are all hurting. I haven’t
been to a funeral in a long time, and to go to two in one week was a bit
overwhelming.
I
always have trouble with what to say to the family who is hurting so badly.
Imagine that, someone who loves to use words to write, struggling with words to
offer a family that is suffering a great loss. I feel so inadequate. My words
seem so empty. How can I come up with words that will help comfort and bring
healing?
It
is only upon reflection that I realize that it is not my words that help to
bring comfort, it is simply my presence. When we take time to be there, devoid
of platitudes, giving a simple hug or even a handshake can touch and mean so
much. Giving moral support in a time of loss means the world to those who are
struggling.
One
thing I do know is that we have to be careful with our words when someone is
grieving. Often, we want to offer platitudes that we intend to comfort the
hurting, but could actually have the opposite effect. It is especially important
with parents who have suddenly lost a child. It is better to hold them, say you
are sorry for their loss, and hold them some more. I can’t imagine that pain or
ever being able to fully recover.
The
situation could be different for people who are caregivers who have endured a
long, debilitating journey of suffering with their loved one. The words, “your
loved one is in a better place” could actually bring the comfort you desire. No
one wants to see a loved one suffer. But even in this case, I believe your
presence and your prayers can mean more than any words you could offer.
A
few friends have lost loved ones, and what I discovered was that listening can
be the best medicine. They didn’t need my words. They coveted my prayers and my
presence. A warm embrace and allowing them to shed a few tears on my shoulder
was what they wanted the most. My words would have seemed hollow and empty, but
my presence was appreciated.
This
is a hard column to write as I know of several friends who are facing the loss
of their loved ones. My heart aches for them. I find myself praying for them
often throughout the day. I wonder what more I can do. I stay in touch and
reach out with love.
I
want to encourage you to be there for people who are suffering from a loss, or
even those who are enduring the role of caregiver for their loved ones. People
often feel alone during the darkest hours of their lives, but we know they are
not, AND we have to let them know they are not alone. Our presence means so
much, especially when our words seem so insufficient.
My beloved mom-in-law passed away a few weeks ago. She was such a
beautiful soul. And funny… oh my word! The things she would come up
with. She had special names for certain things in her life; like the big
white robe she wore in the winter. Often she warned us not to be
alarmed if we saw a polar bear ambling around her house as it was just
Big Bertha.
When she could no longer walk with just the assistance of a cane, she
began using a walker with a seat. It had a little basket where she
would load her gardening tools as she puttered around the yard. Inside
the house she would load it with cleaning supplies or laundry for that
long trip down the hall. She dubbed it her “Cadillac.”
She had a pink blouse which she always wore to the doctor. More
accurately it was mauve, that dusty rose color which was popular in the
eighties. Her daughters tried every way they could to get her to wear
something besides that godawful shirt as it did her no favors. However
she always went back to it. Though mauve is code for ugly, she
brightened it with her smile.
We’ve begun cleaning out her home of over fifty years. You can’t even
imagine the treasures we’re gleaning. So far we’ve only gotten to the
kitchen. We checked expiration dates on the foods in the pantry and
laughed so hard at the things she hung onto. David suggested that if the
date began with the words “In the year of our Lord,” we could probably
assume it was too old to consume. In the back of one especially low
cabinet was an unidentifiable figure. It appeared to be a dried corpse
of an animal from yesteryear. David’s sister bravely pushed it into the
floor with a broom. The four of us stood hovering over it trying to make
out what it could have been. David finally scooped it up with the
dustpan and took it outside. It was larger than a squirrel and had a
funky shape. The sisters told me I could have it as part of my
inheritance. I was more than thrilled.
Later as I thought again about the dried up mystery animal, I
remembered bringing Nina some driftwood from the beach many years ago.
She had expressed wanting a piece to put a little ceramic bird on that I
had brought her the year before. Apparently the two treasures never met
as she always had lots of projects in the works. In fact that bird is
probably buried somewhere in her craft room which our middle daughter
lovingly renamed Nanny’s Crap Room. It is an accurate description and we
can hardly wait to go through the treasures there.
What I love about Nina’s kids, Jo, Gail, and David, is that they’ve
been able to maintain their mother’s great sense of humor as we do the
necessary things. No pushing, grabbing, or resentment; just working
together to honor their mother’s last wish of having a happy home. The
closest we’ve come to fighting so far has been over a pack of bacon.
Very graciously I have been included in the dividing of assets. Along
with the driftwood shaped like a varmint, I’ve been given her cement
pineapple which was always her southern symbol of hospitality. Though I
do not share that same sentiment, I love that she did. I tucked it by my
side entrance behind a large hosta lest anyone get the wrong idea. You
know how I feel about entertaining visitors I do not know. All you
“angels unaware” might as well fly on down the street to someone more
Godly. However, if you do happen to knock on my door, don’t be surprised
if I’m wearing a mauve shirt. Too bad it didn’t come with Nina’s sweet
smile.
Part l with the
surveyor still is one of the best stories about my bike rides and of my life.
But this summer’s ride to Alaska has a continued lesson about His presence on
my cycling adventures. You’ll see why I ask every day, “Lord, ride with me.”
On just my third
day of the Nevada to Alaska cycling adventure, I found myself on a warm day
with lots of hills and my water consumption had increased to the point that I
needed water soon. I had left Doyle and then Milford, California, assured in
both places that there were supply points ahead. I had all my bottles filled
with water and a squeeze filter strainer should I need it to drink out of a creek
or stream. This option didn’t appeal to me unless the water was moving
significantly, although the packaging said that even standing water would be
safe. I had 3,000 miles to ride and didn’t want any gastric conditions.
With
temperatures in the lower 90s, I kept pushing north through the challenging
terrain. On US 395 in these parts, traffic is insignificant. I did find on my
map that there was a Federal Land Management fire station well north of where I
was, but there was no guarantee of available water there.
On a day that
reminded me of the day six years ago when I needed water, the same situation
soon became a reality. I was out of water again and if the FLM facility wasn’t
staffed, would still have close to 50 more miles until the first town. It was a
time to stop the bike and say again, “Lord, ride with me,” and this time I was
specific about the need for water and how soon it was needed.
Just a few miles
after the prayer and on another steep and hot uphill, I spotted a no longer
used rest area. This one had signs and concrete barricades to keep cars out. I
stopped a quarter mile away and prayed something like this, “Lord, its hot and
dry and I need water. I have never seen a rest area out here with water,
particularly an abandoned one. But Lord, if its OK with you, I ask you to
provide me with a source of water.”
I pedaled on and
rode through a gap in the barricades and looked around. The bathroom buildings
were locked and signs were everywhere to keep out. But off to my left was the
most uplifting sight of my trip, a long galvanized pipe spewing spring water at
a constant rate. My incredibly selfish prayer had been heard, although that
pipe had probably been there for years.
Within minutes, I
drank three bottles of the wonderfully delicious water, ate a few cookies, and
felt wonderful. The peace of knowing that my prayer connection has such power comforts
me incredibly.
I left the rest
area with a huge smile, but wondering how often those around me realize the
power of prayer. No doubt that the Lord does ride along daily.
On ahead, once I
topped the summit of this particular mountain, I did find that FLM fire
station. Firefighter Ryan Rodd had me come in for a fantastic peanut butter and
jelly sandwich, made even better because I was no longer thirsty. Still Ryan,
from North Carolina, told me that I could top off my water bottles in his
station. I did, but nothing could possibly have beaten the taste of that spring
water!
Lord, Ride with me today! is the title of my first book and remains my thoughtful request to start a cycling day. I have no doubt that He is with me today and every day.
Our eyes met as I was rounding Aisle 7, while hurrying
through the grocery store. I had to do an after school pickup in 20 minutes and
honestly, there was no time to talk to my friend that I had not seen in quite a
while. But, I knew I needed to talk with her – and I wanted to talk with her.
She had lost her husband a few weeks earlier – and I saw the grief in her eyes.
We hugged. We cried.
She talked. I listened.
Oh, how my heart hurt for her.
Our short window of time that day came quickly to a
close. Our conversation ended as I knew I could not leave my grandson without a
ride home from school. So, we prayed a quick prayer together, and as we parted,
I said these words, “I’ll be praying for you.”
I did. That day, I could only think of her – the
grief, the hurt, the pain. I prayed. Then, I prayed the next day. And the next.
And probably even the next.
But… one day I realized that it had been days since I
prayed for her – during the most difficult time of her life. My promise had
been short-lived.
I put the blame on my memory. I put the blame on my
busy life. I put the blame on _______. (Just fill in the blank with any
excuse.) I put the blame on everything – but myself.
I’ll be praying for you. Those words seemed so
empty even to me – and I was the one who said them.
That is when I gave myself a good talking to – through
the guidance of the Holy Spirit and God’s Word.
I remembered:
*When we pray, God hears. God listens.
*When we say a name in prayer, we are giving that person an
amazing gift – their name transcends from earth to the God in heaven.
*A connection is made from our lips, our thoughts, and our
hearts to the ears – thoughts – and heart of God..
It is called the power of prayer.
We forget sometimes that we have a direct link.
Luke 18:1 says we ought always to pray – and not to faint.
To faint means we lack in strength or enthusiasm.
Do we believe it matters?
Do we believe God’s Power is > than our power?
Do we believe God hears our prayers?
Do we believe we are really talking to God?
I believe we do.
Do we believe we pray enough?
I believe we don’t.
Can we change that?
I believe we can.
Will it be worth it?
I believe it will.
Lord, help us to remember to pray always and not to faint.
Help us to give – and receive – the gift of prayer. Help us to remember to pray
for someone when we say we will. Amen
When
summer rolls around I keep a very full social calendar. After a busy school
year, I look forward to catching up with friends and family. I meet some people
for breakfast, others for lunch. I only get the chance to see some of my
friends during summer break.
My wife has a
hard time keeping up with my schedule. I have to admit, I have a hard time
remembering all my commitments, too. I have been learning to use Google
calendar, which helps me stay organized. The trouble is, I still like to write
things on the calendar near my desk. I have got to move over to Google
exclusively, then I can share my calendar with my wife.
I
like catching up with friends. I like it when the conversation flows naturally,
when we share equally. I also like to be with people who are mutually
encouraging. I know that I have a gift to encourage people, but sometimes the
encourager needs encouraging, too. I have several friends who challenge me to
think deeper or to see things from different perspectives. Sometimes I find
myself meditating days or even weeks later on something that was said…I really
like that.
Through
the years I have been blessed to have a good relationship with my pastors, both
past and present. I love getting them to laugh, sharing our journeys in the
Lord, and just hearing about their daily lives. Conversations do not have to be
all about spiritual things, sometimes it’s about how we live and endure the
daily craziness. I count it a high honor when I get the chance to encourage or
lift their burdens.
Some
may wonder, is the Holy Spirit present when you are talking about the mundane
things of everyday life? I can assure you from many past experiences that the
Spirit of God is present when we share some time with our brothers and sisters
in Christ. We all have interesting and sometimes crazy experiences that are fun
for others to hear about. When we can share and connect with another believer
on a normal, everyday level, then the doors open to share on a deeper,
spiritual level.
We
need each other in the body of Christ. God did not design the Christian walk to
be done alone. Life is hard and He wants us to be there for each other. The
crazy things you experience are there to help lift the burden of others who
need a laugh to carry on. Two people in my church this week experienced the
loss of a loved one. That’s when the body of Christ is called to come together
to encourage and support those who are hurting.
We
all have good days when we need to spread some sunshine in the lives of others.
We all struggle with times when we are feeling kicked down by the daily hassles
of life. That’s when being in fellowship with other believers can be critical.
God wants to encourage us and lift our spirits. Sometimes God does that when we
are around the family of God. That’s what brothers and sisters do.
When
you are feeling down, ask someone to pray with you. It doesn’t have to be the
pastor; all your brothers and sisters in Christ can pray with you. The same
goes in the other direction. If you see your brothers or sisters looking
downcast, take the initiative to go pray with them. Your prayers are powerful
and effective. Your prayers can help the sun break through on someone’s cloudy
day.
I
believe God likes to use people who have been through what you are going
through to help and encourage you through your storm. The only way they can
know is if you are in fellowship and you open your heart to share. It’s hard to
open our hearts to others, but if we have been sharing with them during the
good times, the connections are already made for the tough times.
I
want to encourage you to connect with other believers. If you will work on building
those connections when times are good, you can be sure that help is on the way
when times are bad. I can assure you there have been times in my life when I
felt I was lost at sea, when all of a sudden a friend braved my storm and threw
me a life preserver. We need to be in fellowship, to open our hearts to others
who are struggling to walk out their faith, too. That’s God’s plan for how we
are all going to make it safely to the end.
Did you miss the holiday? No, not Mother’s Day. You can’t miss
that if you watch television at all. Every jewelry store on the planet
makes sure to remind us. Last Saturday was not only Cinco de Mayo, the
day for which we stock up on limes and avocados and don’t know why. It
was also Naked Gardening Day… according to our cousin Michael. The event
seems to be an important one to him as he always reminds us of it on
Facebook. Thankfully we don’t live near the man as we choose not to
observe the holiday. Our garden is not that big. We did however get our
binoculars out and keep them handy in case our neighbors decided to
celebrate.
Though we didn’t observe any tiptoeing through the tulips, we did
discover a family of groundhogs. The daddy is huge and looks like a bear
when he stands on his hind legs. Not like a Kodiak but more like a
miniature brown bear with a long tail. His fur is reddish and fluffy but
I was not fooled by his cuteness. A few summers ago either he or one of
his cohorts stripped the leaves off my mom-in-law’s tomato plants
leaving only a naked stalk. The daddy groundhog’s wife is gray and
smaller. She tends to make her way over to our yard when she notices the
truck is not in the carport. The ground there is soft and dusty and she
seems to enjoy rooting around in it for some reason. I nearly soiled my
undies the other morning when I stepped outside unaware of her
presence. She stood on hind legs as if questioning my being in her
space. So I did what any normal person would do. I barked like a dog
until she waddled home on her short chubby legs.
Sorry. I have no right to make fun of anyone’s short chubby legs.
[Yet another reason to refrain from observing Naked Gardening Day.] I
must add she was surprisingly fast for such a plump creature. She
scooted her fluffy body under the neighbor’s shed and peeked out at me.
Even with binoculars I couldn’t see through the lattice where she hid. I
envisioned her gathering her one pup near her side and warning that if a
person acts that strange, especially in broad daylight, they probably
have rabies.
Hopefully she will not be back. This is the first time David has
tried having a little garden in a long time. All he wants is a good
tomato sandwich, a few cucumbers for pickling, and a couple zucchinis to
make bread. Is that too much to ask? It only cost us $537 to build a
raised bed, haul in good dirt, pay the kid next door to help us unload
it, and buy the few plants.
Oh and cages for the tomatoes. It makes me laugh at how tall they are
compared to the tiny plants inside. David looked at them the other day
and spoke with his dry humor. “Somebody has high hopes.”
Yep. We are determined to eat something from our backyard this
season… living off the land and all. I just hope it’s not groundhog.
Back in 2013, I
decided to give long distance cycling a try. Maybe just a tad more than a try.
I decided to ride from Anacortes, Oregon to Myrtle Beach. I knew I would learn
a lot about myself, but I didn’t know how much these adventures would deepen my
faith. I have included a short recap of three events, two of which assured me
of God’s intervention. Or at least that’s the way it looked to me. You may
understand why I never worry what might be ahead, danger included.
In 2013, my
flights were delayed to Portland and I missed a shuttle to Anacortes, the point
where I would pick up my bike and begin the biggest adventure of my life. With
the late arrival, I had to hire a van to drive just me from Portland to
Anacortes where the bike was waiting on me. Previously, I was planning to get
the bike on Saturday afternoon and begin riding east right away. With my late
arrival on Saturday, the bike shop had already closed, and I picked it up on
Sunday morning. The owner wanted me to try out the bike before I left the area,
just to make sure everything was working right. He said, “Make sure you ride up
the only hill in town. You’ll see it.” I was about to ride over 4,000 miles
across our great nation, climb across the Rockies, the Ozarks and more.
I struggled to
climb this small but steep hill and had to stop to let my legs catch up about
midway. Just an elevation increase of 500 feet had given me trouble. I was
demoralized but then headed back to my room to pack the bike. I sat down, asked
God to protect me, help me make the right decisions, provide strength when
needed and simply to hear me say, “Lord, ride with me today!” The strange peace
that came with saying that statement to Him was unbelievable. I left that room
with a calmness that would continue all the way through nearly 12,000 feet of
elevation in Colorado. To this day, I won’t start my daily ride, no matter the
circumstances, without saying, “Lord, ride with me today.”
A couple weeks
later, on the same ride, I was in a vast national park on a Sunday and running
out of water. Water is the key supply that matters most to a long distance
cyclist. Without it, energy leaves quickly, the mouth feels like rough
sandpaper and the tongue just sticks to the roof or bottom of the mouth. I was
to this point, knowing that I had no chance of supply for at least 12 more
miles, all uphill. I had a swallow left in one bottle. Yes, poor planning on my
part, but the facts were that I would probably not die but the next three hours
would be miserable unless something happened.
I stopped to say
my prayer again and ask for Him for help. This park was nothing but wilderness
in the area, no place to stop until I saw the sign for a rest area ahead. Rest
areas out west don’t have water, at least any potable (drinking) water. My hope
was that someone might stop with available extra water. No cars were passing me,
and I did feel more alone than I should.
At the rest area,
no one was around. Two portajohn style buildings and a trash receptacle were
the only amenities. I sat for a minute wondering what to do, knowing that this
would be the best chance to find help until I reached the campground 12 miles
ahead.
Just then, I
looked up to see a white surveyor’s truck pull onto the grass next to the
parking lot. When the driver got out, I walked over to ask him about water. It
took no courage to do this because the situation was soon to be serious.
Remember that
this was a Sunday, less traffic than other days, and that I was out of water.
The surveyor told me, “I never work on Sunday, but we needed some data today
and I’m here to get it. I don’t have any water. No wait! This isn’t my truck
and this truck does have some bottled water in it. You are welcome to what you
need.” The surveyor had driven this truck because his normal one was not
available. I got the water I needed, thanked him and rode on ahead nearly 12
miles to the campground where my supplies were topped off.
It
was wonderful to get a break in the summer heat last week. The Canadian front
pushed the heat and humidity south and we had a wonderful week to be outside. I
was outside almost the entire week. Although I was pulling weeds, I can’t deny
that I loved being out there. I have noticed that the heat and humidity have returned,
and I will retreat to the cool of our home. It’s August in the Carolinas; heat
and humidity are here to stay.
I
was outside working in both the vegetable and flower gardens. I made it out
early some mornings and stayed out late into the evenings. When the air felt so
refreshing, I didn’t want to come in. I am blessed in my yard to have the woods
on the west side. By late afternoon, we have shade across most of our yard.
It’s
been hot since school let out. I haven’t had any desire to work in the
yard…that is, until last week. When I got out there I knew I was going to have
to do the one thing I really don’t like doing…pull the weeds. The air felt so
fresh and clean, I didn’t care. We pulled so many wheelbarrows full of weeds
out that I lost count. As we cleared an area, I got some mulch and put it down.
Some parts of our yard are looking quite good.
Don’t
misunderstand; there is still plenty that needs to be done. Good gardeners are
never finished. There are plants that need to be moved, removed, planted,
pruned, etc. There are always plans and dreams of how you want things to look.
We have lived here long enough that we have started to rip out things we planted.
A gardener’s work is truly never complete.
You
might think I was tired after working outside all week. Well, I have to admit
that there are a few muscles, especially in my arms and back, that are
complaining, but I am feeling surprisingly refreshed. I think getting a break
from the heat and humidity has actually helped me feel better. I also get a
certain joy out of being outside working in my yard.
Life
has a way of wearing us down. It is important that we discover ways that we can
be refreshed. I know we can be refreshed when we go on vacation, but the
reality is we have to work to pay the bills and keep the lights on. How can we
be refreshed when life seems to go at breakneck speeds? We all have so many
demands on our time. What can we do within our daily routines?
First,
it’s important to discover for yourself what makes you feel refreshed. For my
little sister, it’s going for a run. She feels better after she exercises. Some people need to soak in a tub. Others
might like to escape into a good book. Still others might curl up and take a
nice nap. Knowing ourselves is a key to
refreshment.
Second,
I believe music has a way of touching our souls. I know the music of our youth
has the power to awaken something special in each of us. But the kind of music
I am talking about here is the kind that lifts up the Lord. Again, there is
such a wide variety of music styles that honors and lifts up the Lord. If old
hymns stir your soul, go for it. There is so much new and various styles of
worship music out there; find yours and run with it.
Why
does this work? When we lift up the Lord, He is drawn to us. When we are in His
presence, we are going to be refreshed. No matter how tired and weary we might
feel; one touch from God can completely restore us. When our spirit connects
with His Spirit, we will be changed, renewed, refreshed, and restored. Music
has the power to move us if we will open our hearts to Him.
I
want to encourage you to seek the Lord for a refreshing touch this week. I
believe that God wants to draw closer to you and renew you. I know life is busy
and hard, but taking a few moments to do the thing that helps you feel
refreshed is important for your wellbeing. Add to that music that honors and
lifts up the name of Jesus and you will be refreshed. God wants to be closer to
you. When you open your heart in worship to Him, you will sense His presence in
a beautiful and wonderful way.
