Day 15--Eyes on Today

Laura Lin,  https://www.etsy.com/shop/PaintedVerses/

This scripture on worry has always been a favorite of mine. I'm referencing it at length because the entire passage deserves consideration:

"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Isn't there more to life than food and more to the body than clothing? 

Look at the birds in the sky: They do not sow, or reap, or gather into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Aren't you more valuable than they are? 

And which of you by worrying can add even one hour to his life? 

Why do you worry about clothing? Think about how the flowers of the field grow; they do not work or spin. 

Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his glory was clothed like one of these! 

And if this is how God clothes the wild grass, which is here today and tomorrow is tossed into the fire to heat the oven, won't he clothe you even more, you people of little faith? 

So then, don't worry saying, 'What will we eat?' or 'What will we drink?' or 'What will we wear?' 

For the unconverted pursue these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. 

But above all pursue his kingdom and righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 

So then, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Today has enough trouble of its own. -Matthew 6:25-34

Now, I'm a practical kind of person. For this reason, it's hard for me to think beyond the eating, drinking, body, and clothing in this verse. It's my bread and butter.  It's what I know best-- what's in front of me.

Perhaps this is especially true of mothers, as we necessarily spend much of our daily energies concerned with the very immediate needs of our children. Have they eaten? What have they eaten or not eaten?! Have they outgrown these pants? Do they need new shoes? Each day we must consider the never-ending cycle of laundry. Mothers are hardwired to consider such things.

Consider the lilies instead? Ironically, this requires a dearer piece of me. More self-control. Brainpower of a different sort. My gut reaction is that I don't have time for lilies because many more practical matters are pressing.

"Above all pursue his kingdom and righteousness..." What an abstract and intangible imperative. It's not readily quantifiable, can't be corralled then checked off on my to-do list.  Instead, it forces me to slow down. It requires reflection. Ah, but, the most precious things in life do...

What do the lilies and the birds have on us? 

They are singular in focus, keeping the main thing the main thing. They reconcile the day only to itself, taking the rains and winds as they come, not wishing for other skies. There is a simplicity in their straightforward ways. 

Clearly, He made us of different stuff. I don't know why, and I am admittedly jealous of the easy-going nature and rhythms of the natural world. Our dogs, our cats, the birds, the flowers....they go about their day with a confidence and bliss that is envious. 

My own day feels much more tentative. Who knows what's around that bend? I can easily skip out of rhythm, become distracted, lose sight of the whole because I'm mired in the details.

Transiently beautiful---each flower blooms for just one day.  Such extravagance...

How do we know when we are pursuing His kingdom? First, let me admit that it's not always clear cut. But, I do know that there is a hallmark of peace, a letting down of sorts that happens in my spirit when I do.  

It doesn't mean that I'm busy with some grand Christian task.  It could and will include the dishes, the shopping, the mundane mantra of life.  I don't think Jesus is diminishing these details here. They are important--the very basics of life.

He's not suggesting we stop our work to sit around pondering flowers all day either.  He certainly did no such thing, working tirelessly from dawn through the night.  Also, the very birds and flowers he referenced are busy--hunting for insects, building nests, searching for water, growing, blooming, seeding--all very much work. 

Instead, It's the perspective we hold on our work--it must be greater than the work itself or we lose the whole.  We must broaden our focus instead of narrowing it. The daily work must be put in its proper place.   

What is its place?

• There is a kingdom beyond this immediate one. It's His kingdom and not mine. This truth is woven into the Lord's Prayer I recited as a Catholic child, "thy kingdom come...." My day is individual in some respects, but I also need to see it as a piece of larger kingdom.  Life is more than the immediate, more than what we can see and touch: "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. " - Hamlet (1.5.167-8), Hamlet to Horatio
  
  
• God knows I have many practical needs, "....your heavenly Father knows that you need them." Just the thought of His awareness of my needs, His comprehensive knowledge of my needs, my children's needs, my husband's needs, my neighbor's needs--this helps ease the weight of them on my shoulders. I'm not in this alone.
  
• He promises to not just be aware of these needs, but to provide for them: "all these things will be given to you as well."
  
  
• We are responsible for but one day at a time, "each day has enough trouble of its own." We do ourselves a huge disservice when we take on heavy burdens beyond or before it.  How solid, true, and useful---every--single---day. 

He desires my faithfulness and trust---not in the grandiose or far away--but in the tangible tasks of today. I can draw a circle around today.  I can let what's outside it go.  I can focus my thoughts and energy right here.  There is peace to be had here, within the liberating confines of today.

The joys of  being faithful with today alone...

Day 14--Pushing on...lessons from a gutsy vine

"Now the LORD God appointed a plant and made it come up over Jonah, that it might be a shade over his head, to save him from his discomfort. So Jonah was exceedingly glad because of the plant." -Jonah 4:6

The marching pumpkin vine in the morning fog
 (you can see Rose's pumpkin in the distance).

I felt silly writing about this pumpkin vine again until I remembered that Jonah the prophet valued a vine too. He was even "exceedingly glad" about it, so that leaves me in solid company.

I'm thankful for vines that persist and overcome obstacles because they give me a picture of how to overcome things in my own life--quietly, politely, but persistently.  

This humble pumpkin vine emerged from the compost heap,then out-climbed dozens of others, to triumph on the fencetop and produce Rose's gorgeous pet pumpkin.

Even then, he's still going, inch-by-inch, bloom-by-bloom, across the fence top.  Despite infestations from squash beetles, leaf after leaf covered by their fuzzy yellow voracious larvae, he soldiers on.      

Squash beetle larvae--prolifically destructive 

Yesterday morning brought an ant expedition trailing across a bloom.  To me, it's as amazing to watch the intricate world of ants as it is to think about ice rings on Saturn. Clearly they have their own marching orders and are busy all the time. Their world has its own rhythms and purposes, triumphs and frustrations.

Though, I'm never one to get ahead of myself, I'm still childishly enthusiastic about this particular bloom.  Like Rose, I have a feeling.... This morning the fruit seems larger yet again....a second pumpkin?  And, the ants seem hopeful--they are still wildly busy climbing in and out of that foolishly beautiful cap.  The faint striping on the fruit is promising... 

Only time will tell.  One bloom at a time.

So,  like this tenacious vine, I choose to hopeful in the garden and in larger life.  The old Southern saying holds true enough, "I can't complain and if I could it wouldn't do me any good anyway." 

The seamless rhythms of nature and life continue on.  The ants are busy.  The vine pushes forward.  There is stuff (as David would say) to be done.  For today, I choose to company with Robert Browning's optimistic Pippa:

The year’s at the spring,
And day’s at the morn;
Morning’s at seven;
The hill-side’s dew-pearled;

The lark’s on the wing;
The snail’s on the thorn;
God’s in His heaven—
All’s right with the world!

-"Pippa Passes," Robert Browning

Day 13--Small and Great Things

"Aren't two sparrows sold for a penny?
Yet not one of them falls to the ground apart from your Father's will. 

Even all the hairs on your head are numbered. 

So do not be afraid; you are more valuable than many sparrows." -Matthew 10:29-31

Cherry and Ivory Swizzle Zinnia--love the fade.

When in despair over greater things, it helps me to grab onto the lesser.  Last Thursday I had a hard smack in the face after a routine colonoscopy.  Actually, it was a procedure I pushed for, as I have a sad family medical history.  At 46, I was expecting a few polyps perhaps, but not a 4cm mass.   In my experience, this is how life goes.  You never know what routine test or routine day may bring.  I keep short tabs and take little for granted.

Even in great difficulty, I find His hand constant in the details.  I have a friend who works over at Asheville GI, and even though I didn't see her that day, her presence there and her later encouraging texts were a gift.  My biopsy results came back Friday---much better than the "most likely Monday" word from the doctor earlier.   Mercifully, the biopsy tested precancerous, and though that doesn't guarantee that there is no cancer (they are testing just one piece of a larger mass), at least I could breathe again.  

I'm thankful for His mercy for today and the prayers of faithful friends.   I'm thankful for doctors I can trust. That the very hairs on my head are numbered.  That sparrows don't fall to the ground without His knowledge.  He is over the small and great--nothing escapes His notice.

Faith in God is not a magic wand.  It doesn't wave away bad things.  Yes, God chose to heal at various points in the scriptures.  And He heals in the present.  He listens to our prayers.  He is a merciful, long-suffering God.  But, He is God.

shadows of purple cone-flowers

He is God, and He can do whatever pleases Him.  He always does what is best and always works toward a greater plan.  But, His timeline is different than our own.  His perspective is broader, more intricate, further-sighted.

So, I will schedule a surgery consult this week.   And I will continue to read His word every morning.  And I will pray for this stupid growth to be completely precancerous, not cancerous. And I will walk in my garden and notice His hand in small things.  The tasseling of the corn--a miracle of its own--do you know that each silky strand pollinates just a single kernel? The beginning blooms on our lemon squash plant.  The Lilliputian zinnias and three new kinds of sunflowers all unfolding...

I will appreciate my husband more.  I will be glad to drive the children from A to B the hundredth time--because I am able.  I will thank my sweet neighbor for being especially kind to me. I will write my general physican a thank you note because he encouraged me to be tested early. These are gifts too.

He is faithful in the small.  He is faithful in the great.   He can be trusted for today and tomorrow.

Day 12--The heart

"He told them many things in parables, saying: "Listen! A sower went out to sow..." -Matthew 13:3 

I've always liked parables. Who doesn't relish a good story?  As a child, so much of what I was taught at Catholic CCD was hard to grasp, but the parables, they made sense.  House built on sand.  Merchant found a pearl.  A man stopped to help a sick man. Great! Let's color a picture, and then we can all go home. 

As an adult, I have an even greater respect for them. Now I appreciate the genius of their design. Like burrs that stick to your socks--long after class is over, you'll find their simple images sleeping in the corners of your mind. They are winsome; they invite you in and then entreat you to find a comfortable place to rest, to stop and think a bit. Where would I build my house?  Would I sell my field? Would I be too busy to stop?

For me, a favorite among them has always been the Parable of the Sower.  Great imagery--A sower had a field, and he broadcast some seed. It fell on four different types of ground: path, stony, thorny, and good soil. Four scenarios, four results.  Even better, Jesus took care to elucidate this one it point-by point.  No need to guess what is meant.

But in my 40's, it's begun to puzzle me, even to sadden me.  Although it's straightforward and clean in many regards, in others, it's unfathomable. As a child, it was easy to conclude "Yes, I want to be the good soil!" and move on.  But as an adult, this story takes me to places that are more piercing, difficult.

I'm more frank in my estimate of myself, my capabilities.  I'm more aware that these odds are not great odds.  Four possibles, yet only one desirable outcome, hmmm.   Even the good soil bears various degrees of fruit.  Matthew tells us that some seed produced 30 times itself, another 60, and a third part 100.  In one sense, at least all three are productive, but what makes the difference between good, better, and best? What exactly makes the good soil good? 

Final few summer stragglers made it in the soil yesterday--a relief!--basil, a few baby zinnias, and some purple amaranths.

As a "doer" I want to quantify the characteristics of the good soil, figure out the application, and check them off.  Done! But, spiritual growth is not straightforward, clean. You often don't recognize it in the everyday.  Instead, it's like a friend's child you haven't seen in awhile; one day you happen into them and realize "Wow, he's grown up!"  Sometimes even the appearance is deceiving---we all know children in adult bodies.

I reluctantly admit that the most significant periods of growth seem to be fueled by my battles with the thorns and weeds---worry, trials, death, doubt, sickness, relational pain.  Ugh.  These can choke our hearts, if we let them, or they can make exceptional compost.  Compost happens over time and space though---before that you just have rot.  And the process of weeding is unrelenting and painful.

Another aspect of the Parable of the Sower which gives me pause is the urgency with which it is presented. Jesus begins with the imperative "Listen!" Then later on, his disciples are told: "The one who has ears had better listen!." Clearly this is a critical point--an all hands on deck plea. Do we listen ? Do we have it firmly in hand?

If I'm honest with myself, I don't know. I know I believe in Jesus as Christ, the Son of God, the Trinity, the veracity of the Bible, and other huge boulders of faith that I didn't once know. This I am firm on. But the soil of my heart? That's a much muddier matter. The fact of the matter is that my soil vacillates--my spirit vacillates. It's not static.

Perhaps this is the point? Perhaps like gardening, the process is always in flux. No two days are the same in a garden. Some seed lies dormant, while other is cheerfully sprouting, or blooming... Some plants are quietly going to seed, diminishing. Some are being slowly but steadily choked, and weeds grow up fast, especially after the rains. Again I hear the echo,"for he...sends rain on the just and on the unjust."

No two days are the same in the human heart either. This is why we find the disciples asleep. Why Jesus is pleading. Why I can start a day utterly confident only to have it end in despair.

It varies with the weather, the seasons, the weeding--the tending of one's garden and heart. 

"But as for the seed that landed on good soil, these are the ones who, after hearing the word, cling to it with an honest and good heart, and bear fruit with steadfast endurance." -Luke 8:15

May we cling.  May we be steadfast.  May we endure.

A drawing from my first Bible as a new Christian in my 20's--not artistically remarkable, but sweet to me.

“... the soil of any one place makes its own peculiar and inevitable sense. It is impossible to contemplate the life of the soil for very long without seeing it as analogous to the life of the spirit.” - Wendell Berry, The Unsettling of America, 1977

Day 11--Dirt

“... the Latin name for man, homo, derived from humus,                                                                                                      the stuff of life in the soil.” -Dr. Daniel Hillel

Soil is a primary ingredient of life. Both Christian evolutionists and creationists agree that man was formed, at least partially, from the soil, from basic elemental substances. I realize that the shore of common ground slopes sharply away from there. Creationists interpret the Genesis account strictly--man was created by God out of the ground literally, instantaneously:

from Organic Gardening

" And the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul." -Genesis 2:7

Christian evolutionists interpret the Genesis account poetically and assert that God used the process of evolution over a long period of time to create man and everything on earth.  

Now wait!  Before your head hurts and you close the window or worse yet jump to snap judgments--such as the thought that a mature Christian can't also be an evolutionist--I urge you to consider the possibility that it behooves the Church to listen to different parts of the Body.

There are intelligent folks on both side of the coin here.  Tim Keller--a man I consider to be a fairly good "listener" to both sides--has had some interesting things to say on Genesis, biblical interpretation, creationism and evolution (nothing definitive, but he fleshes out the complexity of the issue in a way I find genuine and helpful). 
Perhaps we can also all agree that these issues have created much division, even slander, within the Church. And, they continue to create division and compartmentalization inside individuals.

from the Atlantic

For this reason, I think many Christians prefer to avoid them.  But never talking about some of the elephants in the room--whether it be our family rooms, church rooms, or private rooms within our soul--isn't helpful or genuine either.  It doesn't make them go away. It just makes us fake. 

I'm of the camp that we should at least admit that there are elephants.  They exist. Now, I am not one who wants to dive in and dissect them all.  We need to step carefully--circumspectly and lovingly--and even more so around those who are of our same faith:

"Therefore, whenever we have the opportunity, we should do good to everyone--especially to those in the family of faith." -Galatians 6:10

This is one such opportunity, no?  As we teach our children time and time again, we can be kind to each other, even when we disagree. 

So, I say, let's acknowledge that there are elephants among us and that the folks on the other side of our perspective warrant our respect and love--whether inside or outside the Church, though clearly the standard is higher within...something else to consider.

I, like most of us, prefer to find things that we can agree about and move on--especially if these things will not make or break us, and if there are bigger battles to fight. Which I there are. We may even disagree about what those battles might be, and that's okay too.

Why do I dare dabble in all of this? Partially because I dislike the polarization within the Church to one side or the other of many many issues. Partially because I think we can become emotionally reactive and hurtful if we don't check ourselves, and this type of behavior helps no one--not ourselves, not our opponent, not the Church, or the world outside. Partially because I think we should be better listeners within our families, within ourselves, within His Church.  And I don't like fake anything.

Moreover, I am thankful that--on some level, albeit small--we can mostly agree on some things--even if only something seemingly insignificant, like the value of soil--humus, dirt--in life.

Hannah Krueger's Tara

I know dirt may seem insignificant or even derogatory.  This is obvious in such expressions as, "he treated me like dirt." Others don't like to "get their hands muddy," and the connotations of an adjective like "dirty" haven't helped.   Scarlett O'Hara hid her hands after working the fields of Tara, as if they were something shameful.  We can be guilty of doing the same in small ways.  Yet ironically, wasn't the dirt what brought Scarlett back to what was real and truly important after the war? The dirt may have brought her to her knees, but it also was the source of her resurrection.  

We do well not to underestimate the value of dirt. 

Soil is the building block of everything--whether literal or spiritual. As any good gardener knows, if you pay attention to the soil, the plants will take care of themselves.  The image of soil plays a significant role throughout the scriptures as well, so that's where I am headed with my entries this week: into some muddy but compelling scriptures about soil...

Dirt is good stuff!  David and Grace, circa 2004

Day 10--Rose's triumph: How does her pumpkin grow?

"Little things seem nothing, but they give peace, like those meadow flowers which individually seem odorless but all together perfume the air."                             -George Bernanos

July 3rd--on the fence, look at its thick neck!

When I first began gardening years ago, I remember being puzzled by the term volunteer, but I've long since grown to love the term and such plants. A volunteer is a plant that you didn't plant, thus it "volunteers" to grow in your garden.  I suppose it's somewhat like a weed, but a wanted weed.  Some volunteers come from nearby self-sowing plants, others are carried by the wind or by an animal, and some come from compost.  Volunteers are usually hardy stock and sometimes inspirational. If you like Granny Smith apples, you can thank an Australian named Maria Ann Smith and her compost pile!

July 5th--sling theory

Our most noteworthy volunteer of the 2015 season came from last year's Halloween pumpkin. Busy with costumes and festivals, we never did carve him. So, he graced our front porch for four months--through Thanksgiving, past Christmas (when he felt unseasonable but was still going strong)  into January, when I finally noticed his bottom starting to puddle.  At which point I launched him into the nearest bed--done!  I always feel better when I can throw something into the yard instead of into the garbage can. 

July 6th

I forgot all about him until this May when dozens of baby squash-like plants gathered in my sunflower bed. I think I am more lenient in the garden than with the rest of my life--I indulge my plants more than I would my children. Often I let squatters this go in the garden, even when I have other plans for the bed.  "Let interesting things go and see where they take you..." is my general philosophy.  Yes, sometimes the end result is chaos or disappointment, but what's a garden without a little mystery?  That's the way I like mine.

July 8th morning--outgrowing the harness

And that's how the pumpkin vine got its start. Then in early June, while the children and I were away visiting DC, Briggs trained one such vine off our walkway and onto the fence. I guess he figured it would save space and get it out of the way. He prefers a tidy walkway and squash vines are rather bossy. I imagine he thinks I'm too much of a pushover in the garden. 

July 8th afternoon, new theory!

So when we came back from our trip, the vine was on the fence, and one morning Rose noticed it.  Once she found out it was a pumpkin vine, it was instantly crowned the birth mother of this year's Halloween pumpkin.  Not one to crush plants or a ten-year old's dreams, I shut up.  But I knew the odds.  If you know squash vines, they can be big on bravado and leaf production but disappointing in performance.  They typically put out a long vine and then a dizzying succession of blooms...one after another after another.  Most never get pollinated and those that do often don't amount to much.  

July 10th morning

However, Rose is tender-hearted and full of big hopes.   She loves to nurture things--whether it be eggs left on the counter overnight for a recipe or our orange tabby.  Who tucks in a cat?  Someone like Rose.  Amazingly, the cat allows it!  So, Rose adopted the pumpkin vine and began checking for pumpkin starts every morning.  "This one is going to be our pumpkin!" she'd declare, only to watch him shrivel the next day.  Until one day, she insisted "I have a good feeling about this one."  And just like the cat, the vine succumbed to Rose's charm.  The pumpkin grew, slowly at first, but purposefully.

July 10th afternoon

I was cautiously optimistic, but concerned that I now had a full-sized pumpkin baby growing on the top of the fence.  "Oh well, we'll figure it out,"  Who knew that pumpkins grow fat so quickly?   Looking back at the pictures on my phone, each one included the date, so I tracked the pumpkin's progress over time. The difference in the seven day window from July 3rd-July 10th is amazing!  

July 11th 

During this week, we were forced to develop strategies to keep this guy safe.  My "sling theory" worked for three days, but then the growing weight of the pumpkin began to worry me.  My solution was the "board theory," leaving the sling in place as a safety net. This worked for two more days, until I noticed the sling was actually strangling the pumpkin, like a puppy that had outgrown his collar.  I nixed the sling. Then, the board began to bend.

July 12th

So, David dreamed up the current "box on top of board propped up by ski pole" theory, which is the best theory yet and still working.  I think it's going to get us where we need to go.  However,  a piece of me still fears that I will one day walk out the door to smashed pumpkin.  After all of this nurturing and monitoring, I am emotionally invested in this pumpkin. I don't think I've ever put this much thought and planning into a single vegetable!

July 13th, storm moving through...

Also, I don't think I've ever watched any vegetable grow this intently.  Because he sits waist-high on the walkway, he's conspicuous!  It's been fun to watch him quickly expand then more slowly turn from dark green to a brilliant pumpkin orange. I'm not sure if he will hold up until Halloween in this hot weather---October seems a long time away.  Time will tell.

July 16th

Yes indeed, I've written an entire entry on a single pumpkin--but he's a special pumpkin: the magic blend of a ten-year old's hopes and serendipity. Plus, there are lessons to be learned and joy to be had in nurturing both children and pumpkins.  They require patience, hope, guidance, and creativity.  And both grow big before you can blink.

I never thought much about pumpkins, just knew that they somehow magically arrived in the stores in each October.

Now I know how the real magic happens in the garden long before then...  

July 18th

"We worry about what a child will become tomorrow, yet we forget that he is someone today." — Stacia Tauscher

Rose and Pascal

Day 9--No Shadow, No Glass

A lovely, but temporal, hibiscus bloom--reminds me of a sea creature washed up on shore.

Our lives are full of variables---like the light I wrote about yesterday, a result of the sun's rotation.  Even beyond our planet, stars and entire galaxies come and go.  Naming only a few here on earth, we have the water cycle, nitrogen cycle, rock cycle, and the ever revolving seasons. Though these cycles keep life interesting, they leave us at the mercy of  shifting sands---all is mutable, changing.  Solomon wrestled with this repeatedly in Ecclesiastes:

The sun rises, and the sun goes down,and hastens to the place where it rises.The wind blows to the south and goes around to the north;around and around goes the wind, and on its circuits the wind returns.All streams run to the sea,but the sea is not full;to the place where the streams flow,there they flow again.-Ecclesiastes 1:5-7

I struggle with personal cycles too.  Didn't I just go the store?  Weed that bed? Clean the car?  Make dinner? Exercise? Tell my daughter not to?...

After writing about light yesterday, I remembered another favorite verse.  This one's from James:

"Whatever is good and perfect comes down to us from God our Father, who created all the lights in the heavens. He never changes or casts a shifting shadow." James 1:17

Our world is variable.  We are variable.  But mercifully, He is not.   

He never "casts a shifting shadow" when everything else does.  What a gift!

This is particularly helpful when my circumstances shift--as they do regularly--sometimes abruptly.  At these times, I must go back to what I do know instead of dreading new unknowns: What is His nature?  What is He like?  Is He surprised?  Does He know about this?  How long has He known? 

The crux of the matter is that we are temporal (from Latin, temporālis: of or relating to time), saturated by time and subject to it.  We are continually accosted by change, so how can we not be shaped by the winds?  In contrast, God is outside of time and space, He's not subject to them.  He is immutable (from Latin, immūtābilis, unchanging.)

This means that though I may be surprised, He's not. Ever. He's never shell-shocked as I might be or at a loss.  It may seem basic, but I need basic. I am not immutable, so I forget.  I forget many things--more and more all the time---dates, names, keys, and most unfortunately, His nature.  I have blindspots.  I make mistakes.  And after many years of denial, I am increasingly aware of how significantly my emotions can color my perception of things.
  
I think that sometimes we make wrong assumptions about God, just as we do about people. We make snap judgments.  We attribute motives.  We look at God and other people through our limited lenses and presume too much.

A minute ago, Grace firmly insisted that there was no maple syrup in the refrigerator.  Yes, she is absolutely positive.  Yes, she has looked everywhere.  No, There is no syrup to be had!  But when I get up and look myself, lo and behold, there is the syrup.  And not always hidden in a back corner either--it's more often in plain sight.

If we can make a mistake about something as simple as syrup, might we make mistakes in other areas as well? Especially when we are tired, rushed, or emotional.  As much as we don't care to admit it, we interpret the world through our flawed temporal lenses. In stark contrast, God sees His creation with perfect immutable vision. 

The good news is that this won't always be the case.  Someday our vision will be corrected and our understanding increased. Paul's perspective in 1 Corinthians encourages me in this regard:

"For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known." 1 Corinthians 13:12

We only know now in part, and even then, what we see is shaped by our imperfect vision. How much more satisfying will it be to know Him fully someday, as He knows us...face-to-face...with perfect clarity?

I found  an old ultrasound of David when cleaning the basement--

"through a glass, darkly"--How much more fully do I know and love him now?

Day 8--Light

Gardens have distinct moods and lighting makes all the difference. The same plants take on different qualities depending upon the weather and the position of the sun in the sky. I suppose they are like people in this regard: changing circumstances bring out various facets of us all--for better or worse.

Love the light on Rose's pumpkin here, but the pumpkin is a story for another day. ; )

Easily, my favorite light in the garden is morning light. It whispers. It's gentle. It's polite. (Unlike the boorish glare of the afternoon sun!) The beds in the front of our home face east, and in the high days of summer, the sun overcomes the landscape there gradually. When it does so just right, it's a living changing thing, like watching the clouds roll in over the mountains.

Emily Dickinson spoke of a different kind of light, more melancholy:

There's a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons –
That oppresses, like the Heft
Of Cathedral Tunes –

I know this light too. Though I don't wrestle with depression as some of my friends do,  I know the grip of post-partum anxiety that I encountered after 9/11 and the birth of our son. On my worst days, the coming of evening brought a heaviness that was almost tangible.  Absence of light also changes us.

I suspect we are affected by light much more than we admit or realize. There is still more mystery in this world than not.

The scriptures lay out several bold assertions regarding light. One is this famous claim by Jesus:

"I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life." John 8:12

Really? In Mere Christianity, C.S. Lewis claimed that these types of assertions render Jesus a lunatic, a liar, or the actual Son of God.  I see his point.  Who goes around declaring he is "the Light of the World" unless he is one of the these three types? How about claiming to be "the Way, the Truth, the Light"? Such statements do not lend themselves to middle ground.

Another favorite image of mine is more cryptic. It's also from the book of John--a book I disliked and avoided as a young Christian (preferring just the facts, mam'). Funny, but I like this book more as I grow older. Perhaps I'm more comfortable keeping company with the abstract and mysterious these days:

"In Him was life, and the life was the Light of men. The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it." John 1: 4-5

Regardless of your position on Christianity, you have to admit this is pretty pointed stuff.  Dismiss it if you will, but dismiss it honestly after frank consideration. Sometimes I wish I could smooth the edges off some of the Bible's more radical statements. But I learned long ago in my college literature classes that one must respect the text, bones and all.   Anything less is below-the-belt.

morning light on the cosmos and daylilies

For instance, there should be no abridging Moby Dick to take out the whaling chapters. They may be boring as anything, but Melville thought them necessary. Even more egregious, there should be no messing with endings.  In maddening cases where the author includes more than one, both should be considered.  And perhaps the author's ambivalence as well. 

Each author determines which words are worthy to be included, not the readers or critics. This is basic literary law.  Although you may disagree with the author's choice and vision, you must respect the author's authority.   

So, I choose to take the whole Bible and consider it carefully and respectfully, even though I don't like or understand it all.  It is such a grand book that I believe it would require extreme hubris for anyone to suggest they like or understand it all.  It  would also require extreme hubris to pat it on the head and dismiss it carelessly or angrily as merely "a cultural book of fables."   It doesn't present itself as such.

Although I don't pretend to like or understand all of the Bible, after studying it for twenty years, I can say that I get most of big picture with a growing degree of confidence.  The small is sometimes shaky in spots, but the big can bear its weight. There are passages and statements that challenge me, trouble me, encourage me, baffle me, anger me, and more.  But I've found a process that yields more good than not. I've learned to patiently lay my question out and ask God about them. Sometimes He clarifies in time, and sometimes the mystery remains.  

Even more mysteriously---I don't understand how the Word of God interacts with our hearts. Or sometimes doesn't.  Something happens there that is one of the greatest of mysteries and far beyond me. 

However, in the same breath, I also don't understand how the light transforms my east-facing garden. 

I only know it does. 
And I know it's beautiful and different because of the light.  

Day 7--Ripeness is All: growing toward maturity

What, in ill thoughts again? Men must endure
Their going hence even as their coming hither.
Ripeness is all.
Come on.
-King Lear, Act V, Scene ii

The storm took my favorite sunflower out last night. So life goes in the garden--easy come, easy go. The upside is that we now have two huge bouquets of the sunflowers gracing our tables.  The downside is the gaping hole in my garden and the disappointment of the finches.  The finches love their sunflower seeds, and once the flowers mature to seed, they are ever present.  That particular sunflower had many branches, so I was especially looking forward to the finches arriving in force.

Tilting here--the storm cracked it right in half!

I had a friend a few years ago comment on her growing interest in birds: 

You know, when I was in my 20's I couldn't care less about the birds.  My parents would watch the birds, and I would think to myself "get a life!" But now that I'm getting older, suddenly, I'm noticing the birds...I'm turning into my parents!

She said it much crasser and more earnestly than this, and her comment caught me just right.  I laughed until my stomach ached, which is sadly, a rare occurrence in my 40's. Bellyaching laughs came easier when I was younger.  Now, I notice when I laugh that long and hard.

But, I don't mind admitting to loving simple things, like the finches.  The finches bring the sunflower's life full circle.  Their lively arrival transforms the bloom's passing into something I look forward to.

May my own life come to a head with such clear purpose someday.  For that reason, I also don't mind admitting to my increasing gray hairs.  My irregularly memory.  My growing need for quiet.  They are steps on a longer journey that has inherent purpose. 

Our culture is definitely anti-aging, to the point of youthfulness becoming an obsession, but growing up and growing old isn't so bad if there is purpose to the growth. After all, isn't growing the point?  What good is a sunflower seedling if it remains a seedling?

Paul's plea to the church in Ephesus expresses such a hope for their maturity:

"As a prisoner for the Lord, then, I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received.... So Christ himself gave the apostles, the prophets, the evangelists, the pastors and teachers, to equip his people for works of service, so that the body of Christ may be built up until we all reach unity in the faith and in the knowledge of the Son of God and become mature, attaining to the whole measure of the fullness of Christ. 

Then we will no longer be infants, tossed back and forth by the waves, and blown here and there by every wind of teaching and by the cunning and craftiness of people in their deceitful scheming. Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will grow to become in every respect the mature body of him who is the head, that is, Christ." -Ephesians 4: 1, 11-15

I may not look forward to all aspects of growing older, but I love the thought of not being tossed back and forth by the waves... There is a centeredness that comes with maturity that I much prefer to the whims of youth.  Sometimes--only sometimes--I am even content with my own limitations. Oddly enough, I'm finding that such limits can be freeing.  The Giving Tree was happy to have something to give, and the sunflower is ennobled by its maturity with the coming of the finches. 

Day 6--Rain

Hollyhocks after the rain 

I woke to thunder and rain this morning.  My first thought was of the garden: good, it's been dry. I appreciate that about gardening---it pulls me back to the outside cycles. Rain then is more than something that gets me wet.   Or something that I have to drive through carefully. Rain feeds. Rain refreshes. Rain sustains.  It's not merely an inconvenience or the harbinger of an unfortunately dreary day.

The ancients, of course, were deeply in tune with the weather, the seasons, the cycles of day and night. I think about that sometimes and wonder if the rampant sleeplessness, depression, anxiety, and stress of our culture would be helped by drawing closer to these cycles. Once upon a time, the cost of candles forced people to go to bed.  Then they woke up early because "daylight is burning."  The cycles kept them in check.  In our culture, we have few natural checks and can become completely divorced from such considerations.  We make our own days and nights. And many of us do this poorly.  We over-extend and exhaust ourselves when we ignore the natural rhythms and order that God built into His creation.

I too am up late some nights, so I'm as guilty as any and not suggesting we all go back to candle light. But, I do think we should be mindful of the built-in seasons and cycles of our bodies and the earth.  The hippies have that piece right. 

I love the droop of hemlock weighted down by rains.

Children do this naturally.  They jump in puddles and gather at the window to watch the snow fall.  As adults, I think we often lose our way.  We become immersed in the noise of life to our own distraction and destruction.  Who can deny that there is something instinctively comforting and warm about candlelight and fires?  Or that a childlike relief descends with the rain or snow?  In these moments, we sometimes step outside of our distracted selves and feel justified in enjoying the rain, the snow, the fire.  The stars outside bring us healthy wonder if we'd only stop to contemplate them.  We need room for contemplation even if it's uncomfortable at times.  And the garden brings refreshment after a rain.   These are all good rhythms for us to enter into...

When it rains, I can almost hear the plants sigh.  And after the rain, first the plants droop, but then right themselves vigorously, ready to get about their business again. We need to heed the same rhythms. In small ways, the garden can pull us back.

Ancient Jewish culture. like all others, was necessarily centered around drought, rain, and agricultural cycles. These are woven throughout the scriptures--again, I believe, to reconnect us. They are touchstones.

I can't relate to sacrificial offerings and dietary laws, but something in me instinctively relates to rain, plants, and seasons.  Physical rains and spiritual rains abound in the Bible, especially in the prophets.  Such gorgeous passages to linger in....

However, instead, I'm going to share one that challenges me:

“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers,what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same?"  -Matthew 5:43-47

Yesterday I mentioned that God is a longsuffering and patient gardener. This scripture echoes these qualities.  He sends rain to all.  He is merciful to all on this earth. 

Honestly, if it were up to me, I'd do things differently. I'd surely differentiate--ha!  Not in a bad way now...I would be considerate.  I'd have some mercy.  But in my economy, the very bad weeds and the very unjust would get NO sun and rain. I'd let them wither and die because they don't deserve it.  They really don't.

sigh

But, thankfully and frustratingly for us all, God is not such a legalist.  Instead, He corrected that tendency in the Pharisees over and over again.  

He is replete with mercy and grace. He allows the rain to fall on the just AND unjust. 

The extent to which He sometimes allows the rain to fall on the unjust can even be a source of despair to us.  Why do good things happen to bad people and bad things happen to good?   In His current economy, there is allowance even for this.  Why?  I don't know.   He acknowledges that the rain falls everywhere and that somehow must be enough for now. Life here is inherently unfair.  Got it.

I do know though that I too can be unjust.  I need His rain, His mercy, as much as the rest of us.  And he calls us to be extensions of such love.

To love our enemies.  To extend mercy.  To rain on the unjust they way He does.  

It's a high calling.  I often fail at it.