Garden Talk

The constant change in a garden makes me realize the speed at which this life moves. I wish I could put a video camera on the garden to just watch the constant changes that occurs. I wait each spring for the beautiful Siberian Iris to emerge. They pop up, striking in their royal velvet-purple, reigning victoriously over spring in contrast to the new beds of daffodils, and together they are a feast for the eyes for a few days. Then the daffodils fade, the irises lose their color and fade into the background, and all that is left is the green stems that held each perfectly shaped bloom. But the peonies open up and taking shape in another bed are the climbing roses, budding in peach and opening to white. They are like little bouquets climbing up the trellis. Below the lambs ears perk up, as if hearing that much is going on and it is time to wake up. As the roses bloom, the hydrangeas are just waiting in the wings for their turn on stage. It's like a grand concert - one that continues through the season with little intermissions between the array of colors. Watching it is music to my eyes - rest for my soul.

And then there are the vegetables. The sugar snap peas yielded five meals for two - that's not bad considering the row was only about five feet long. Now the beans are coming up behind them, chasing them up the trellis. Squash blossoms are everywhere and I am giving thought to frying some! Tomatoes are blooming and peppers are growing. But the granddaddy of them all is an amazing cucumber plant that threatens to take over the pergola. I love this plant. No matter how I train it to grow, it says, "Great! I like this way too!" The vine and leaves seem to be strong and healthy. And every morning when I come out, it has grown another six inches. Already I have picked two cucumbers and have visions of making pickles for everyone for Christmas. I love the way the tendrils curl and wrap themselves around anything that will support it. Healthy, content, and productive.

What is it about a garden that lures us, teases us, frustrates us, soothes us? The growing season is short. The weather can be unpredictable. Pests are just waiting for the right moment to attack. But when we start to see blooms and fruit, we are thrilled that something is coming from our efforts - however great or small they may be. Returning to my garden after a few days away, I was reminded what a gift the garden has become to me and how much I learn from the lessons offered there. I'm not that talented or knowledgeable, but I love to work and dig and plant. I love to pull up and plant again. I love to cut flowers and pick tomatoes - oh, please, let me pick tomatoes this summer!
There is a verse that says, "The earth is full of the goodness of the Lord." Looking at a garden is true expression of that goodness. Watching a bloom open or a vegetable grow is all part of waiting on God, watching Him work, hearing Him speak. Maybe that's it. We don't have much to say in a garden. We mostly listen. As we work, our minds and our hearts study and observe. We mentally take note of what needs to be done. We make changes. We move through and pull the weeds and water the dry spots. We prune the overgrown limbs, allowing for more light to come through. And as we carry out our silent work, God speaks to us. Our own silence allows us to hear better. He tells us how much He loves us and gives us guidance and direction. He shows us a better way and rewards our efforts. I love the way Alan Jackson sings about it:

I come to the garden alone while the dew is still on the roses
And the voice I hear falling on my ear the Son of God discloses
And He walks with me and He talks with me
And He tells me I am His own
And the joys we share as we tarry there
None other has ever known.

Walking A Dinosaur

While out of town last week, I went for my usual morning walk. It was a beautiful, cool morning in Kentucky and irises and peonies were blooming along the sidewalk. School buses were making their scheduled stops along my route, slowing everyone down on their drive to work. I was distracted, but energized by the new sights and unfamiliar surroundings.

On my return, I approached a mini-van pulled alongside the sidewalk. I slowed my pace and watched a mom helping her child get out of the car. He looked to be about four - maybe he was going to his sitter for the day. His hair was tussled and he was still wearing his bright yellow pajamas covered with big smiley faces. He reminded me of my son when he was four and how he loved wearing his Bert and Ernie jammies. This little guy was happily struggling with something that he was trying to get out of the car. As I got closer, he had what seemed to be a rope in his hands and I watched him pull and tug to get his possession onto the sidewalk. Finally his mom reached in and with a little help, out came his very own, large dinosaur-on-wheels. Evidently, the rope was the dinosaur's leash. As this little guy walked into the house, pulling his pet behind him, he would constantly turn back to make sure his dinosaur was obediently following. In they rolled, happily attached to each other for the day.

It was one of those scenes where your mind snaps a picture and you can't let it go. A painter friend recently told me it is called "artist eyes." Whatever it is, it dances around in your mind and you return home to paint it - or write about it. And as you mentally return to look at your mind's picture, you begin to think about what you have observed and then you mix it with what you know and it transforms into something meaningful to you - maybe even useful.

I pulled out the encyclopedia just to review dinosaurs and believe this particular pet was a Tyrannosaurus rex - you know, like Barney. The only one I can always remember is the Stegosaurus because he has the large "flower petals" down his back. To me, the others are not so distinct from each other - just big and a little scary and thankfully now extinct. But even though they lived about 150 million years ago, they still fascinate us. I love the photograph of my children standing in front of a dinosaur skeleton at the Smithsonian Institute, wide-eyed and truly impressed by the size of these prehistoric creatures.

This mental snapshot makes me smile every time I revisit the scene - a mommy and a happy child with a toy on a beautiful morning - that is basically what I saw. But I don't really know if he was a happy child - he just looked happy in those bright, smiley face pajamas. Maybe his parents were divorced and he was lonely and confused, clinging desperately to something he could control - his pet dinosaur. But the snapshot also sobers me. The thought of pulling a dinosaur on a leash offers another picture of pulling a heavy and cumbersome load. Some loads are small and we can mask them by wearing our bright happy faces. Some burdens are big and they are harder to handle, but we insist on tethering them to us, dragging them around. Oh, sure, they get in the way. Oftentimes they become the "elephant in the room" that no one knows exactly how to handle - even ourselves. So we pull it behind us, look over our shoulder to make sure it is with us. We have trouble getting around because of it. And it prevents us from moving forward in life. We cannot let it go.

Face it. Dinosaurs are extinct. Finished. They no longer have any power or presence in our world today. We don't have to face the return of Jurassic Park. We can rest fully at night, trusting that no dinosaur will step on our house and crush us while we sleep. But those personal dinosaurs are another matter. Our mind convinces us they exist and we must carry them around. What troubles you? Financial stress? A broken relationship? A career change? Loss of a loved one? Illness? Fear? A sordid past? Running out of smiley faced pajamas to wear? Is the leash of your dinosaur getting wrapped around your ankles and dragging you down? Or maybe you think you have conquered all your dinosaurs and pride - the scariest of all - has stepped in and made you your own god.

Unleash it. Let it go and start today to be the person God created you to be. Take the initiative to start with a fresh approach, looking ahead and not back. Be honest with yourself about who you really are in God's eyes. It is hard work. It is freedom.

Repair The World

The morning rain and the wake-up call of the birds compete for recognition. The garden is a drenched puddle, but the air feels clean and fresh and the plants have all had a wonderful bath, removing the dusty pollen that has covered everything. But the hard rain in my garden has been nothing compared to the devastation around the country. Roads are washed out, homes have floated away, and now the repair must begin. People will come together and begin again to pick up and sort and salvage . They will unite with hope and work to make it better - to resume life in the safety of their homes and communities.
A few weeks ago - when the weather was beautiful - I toured Charleston, South Carolina with my garden club. Founded in 1670, it is a city that was in place long before our country came into being. The city has survived earthquakes, floods, and fires and war. It has rebuilt and renewed itself time and time again. Oh, some buildings have a quirky tilt and streets are bumpy inlaid with cobblestones, but the city is lush and beautifully charming with an abundance of sub-tropical gardens that make you want to look and linger. Our tour guide told us the history, proud of the fact that the city worked hard to repair itself after every disaster. There was a rich desire to preserve the past, write down history, create beauty, and salvage material for future use. Ship’s ballast became the cobbled streets. Historic buildings were reclaimed after being abandoned - restoring them and reviving them to functionality for a modern world. Many restaurants have their own history, set up in what once was a carriage house or a factory. Many homes have become museums or libraries for the public to tour and enjoy and learn. “New” is a frowned upon word in Charleston.
Before heading out on one of our guided walks, a few of us were discussing the idea of taking home new thoughts from our time together. We found we were gaining new appreciation and insight from each other, learning from each other on this field trip. A new friend to the group offered a phrase that seemed to fit beautifully into the history of Charleston and to our group as a club. In her faith, the Hebrew term “Tikkun Olam” is often used. It means “repair the world .” We were surprised that our visit to a historical city was so much about repair. Over and over, Charleston repaired. Over and over, monumental tasks were accomplished to make the city what it is today. It wasn’t easy. But the citizens never gave up and now thousands visit this beautiful coastal town each year to remember, reflect, and rejuvenate.
And we challenged ourselves to return home and with a idea of our own as to how we could repair our world. Tikkun Olam - it reminded me of a verse in Scripture from Isaiah 58.
“Your people will rebuild the ancient ruins and will raise up the age-old foundations. You will be called Repairer of Broken Walls; Restorer of Streets with Dwellings.”
Throughout Bible history, God’s people repaired, rebuilt, and restored. Not only walls and cities, but relationships as well. It is a lesson not only for a garden club, seeking to find ways to repair and restore the beautiful earth we have been given, but it is a daily lesson for each one of us. What can I repair today? What can I restore today? How can I rebuild today?
Into my mind came the memory of the horses pulling our carriages as we toured Charleston. They wore blinders. Blinders shield the horses from seeing too much around them, and point them toward their intended goal. Blinders help to keep the horses focused on their task at hand - moving forward without distraction. Blinders help the horses focus on the important - not the many, good possibilities. All the carriage driver has to do is to tap the horse’s back with the reins and the horse is reminded to keep going - keep moving in one direction until the reins of the driver give directions to turn or to stop.
It seems there is much repair to do this morning. Whether it’s an oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico or washed out roads in Tennessee, a strained relationship, or a faith that is in need of restoration. We are all part of God’s world, and it is our job to restore and repair. Tikkun Olam. We have work to do. Hebrews says to “Fix our eyes on Jesus.” Don’t look around at others. Repair your own broken walls. Put your own blinders on and watch for His tap you on your back, guiding you in the direction He has in mind for you today.

Love is Blind

I told my husband how very nice he looked as he left for work. He laughed, kissed me good-bye, and said modestly, “love is blind.” Jokingly, I put on my glasses, scrutinized him again, and said, “No, you really look sharp.” Then I reflected on how I looked – frumpy robe, glasses, hair awry, and gathering the trash for the Monday pick-up. I wondered if maybe his comment was for his own encouragement as he looked at me so early in the morning. I hoped the statement was true – and gave thanks.

When we love someone, blindness can be a good thing. There are many things we simply do not see. And there is much we ignore. It’s because when we love someone, we try to find the good, we see the potential, and we forgive the imperfections. And furthermore, we are vividly reminded of own imperfections and it becomes much easier to forgive another. We see the faults and yet, we choose to believe that they are doing the best they can. We are blinded by love. It’s a beautiful thing.

Isn’t that somewhat like God? But never kid yourself. God’s love is not blind. He has perfect vision – nothing misses his sight. He loves us, sees us through and through, knows everything, and yet He loves us more than we know. He knows we will disappoint. He knows we will falter in our efforts. He knows we will be unkind and uncaring. He knows we will not be a good steward of our time and resources. And knowing all of that, He still forgives us and tells us to forgive others.

More importantly and amazingly, He still loves us. His love is “blind” to our inadequacies and our miserable failures because His love sees us as He created us, not as we have allowed the world to twist us into thinking we might be unlovable. Plus, God never gives up on our efforts. He keeps nudging us along, showing us the way, drawing us close to Him.

Easter is the perfect reminder. There is evidence of Resurrection everywhere. We are being shown, nudged and drawn again to Him. The world is coming out new and fresh. Why can’t we do the same thing? My pastor said last week that with every finish there is a new beginning. With every day we can begin again and start over. Does it get weary? Sometimes. Is it frustrating? Yes. Will I ever get it? Eventually.

Keep your eyes on Him.

Highs and Lows

I am recovering from highs and lows. In just one week, I have joined others in prayers for a friend having a liver transplant; two friends with prostate issues; a young man and young woman both diagnosed with dreaded diseases; a friend’s mother in her last days; and of course my own lingering grief issues. But I have also celebrated with friends getting married, shopped with a special bride-to-be, lunched with a dear mother-to-be, joined my church family in serving the community, shot a pretty decent first round of golf for the season, and rejoiced at the daffodils blooms and lettuces and peas bursting into growth with the warming temperatures. Winter is past. New life is coming.

Yesterday was Palm Sunday and the message was one of celebration and sorrow. The procession and music was all praise and worship. The sanctuary was beautifully adorned with palm branches. Thinking I would sit in church and find restoration after a rocky week only led me further to the paradox of the cross. I left with the full knowledge of this Holy Week and the steps that would lead to death on a cross. Jesus set the example. We must go there too – to the cross, that is. In our faith, we are instructed to put everything – all of our celebration and all of our sorrow – at the foot of the cross, giving it all to the One who set the example. Embracing the cross is easier when we are not carrying around all of our pride, sorrow, and shame. It is just hard to let it go. We cling desperately to our things, our dreams, and our expectations.

Two years ago, I wrote, “If we look closely, we all find ourselves somewhere between celebration and sorrow, light and dark, life and death. The big moments of life – birth, death, marriage, anniversaries, achievements – tragedies – all seem to mark the years, but the day-to-day is where our faith steps in and decides if we will face each day with celebration or sorrow.”

The day after Palm Sunday, Jesus began to face His sorrows. It was anything but celebratory. The turning of the water into wine at the wedding was just a memory. Things were now serious and His ministry was about to be completed. He charged forward – resolutely, rebuking the people in the temple, correcting His mounting accusers, never turning away from the growing momentum of impending sorrow. That was the message from the Palm Sunday sermon – we must keep the faith as we walk the difficult roads. We must get to know Jesus and live the way He lived – in the good times and the bad, as we celebrate or as we face death – He shows us the way for all of life and wants to be our best friend. We can face the difficult times when our eyes are “fixed”on Jesus. Why is it then that we just don’t want to know Him very well? Why is it that we don’t spend too much time with Him?

The good news is that sorrow for the believer in Christ always leads to celebration. Death does not have a victory. In fact, death itself will be destroyed. Imagine that! God’s ability to restore life is beyond understanding. I just have to trust it and wait for it. It’s like spring in the garden. I have to wait for the new buds and the sprouting of seeds. I watch closely every day. New life. I love it.

Cutting Up A Chicken

It sat on the kitchen counter whole – like a puzzle that had been successfully put together, and now it was my job to dissect the puzzle, piece by piece, with the hope that I could cut and carve the familiar assortment of chicken parts. I set out with kitchen shears and a sharp knife. I must say detaching the leg quarter is a confidence builder. You just have to learn how to find the joints and that becomes your clue as to where to make the cut. You can leave it whole or separate the leg quarter at the joint to double the number of pieces. I left it whole. Removing the wings is the next step and is similar to the leg in that you can separate the drummette from the wing to double that. I left those intact. Then it gets tricky. You can split the breast down the middle from the ribs or from the underneath side, yielding two pieces or four pieces, depending on your skill level. I stayed with two larger pieces.
What prompted all of this is simple – whole chickens were on sale. Plus I had a new recipe that I wanted to try in my cazuela (clay cooking pot) I had impulsively bought in Mexico. I have these wonderful memories of my mother cutting up chickens – it was almost an art form to watch her, deftly and effortlessly, create a meal from a bird she had managed to catch on our farm. Having watched her, I thought I could do it. And I did. After an afternoon of gardening, we sat down to a nicely roasted chicken that had simmered for several hours in garlic, lemon juice, bay leaf, and wine. Tasty.
We surprise ourselves sometimes. We see something – like a chicken on sale - and even though we are standing in the grocery, our minds are somewhere lost in childhood, reliving a cooking lesson. We take our past experiences and combine them with our present needs for food, and with a little dash of creativity and skill we get to work. We offer it to others with the hope that all we have put into the effort is somehow understood. When that happens, magic occurs and there is delicious appreciation.
I guess it really doesn’t matter how you cut up a chicken. Sometimes we focus more on the technique than our willingness to try and our attitude in the process. We become so intent on all the pieces looking just like the book instructs that we forget that we are reliving some wonderful memories that are unique only to us. We become chicken nuggets, all uniform in size and shape, and cannot even distinguish between the white and dark meat. We become bored with daily responsibilities, forgetting that each day God gives us new opportunities for a rich and abundant life that is ours to develop and grow. I think it is called living in the present.
I am going to buy another whole chicken next week and instead of six pieces, I am going to try for twelve. Who knows, maybe I will get out the heavy iron skillet and fry it.

A Time to Plant

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven
Ecclesiastes 3:1


This morning my friend and I watched as the American Robins feasted on the red holly berries – not one or two, but lots of Robins, feasting on the goodness of nature, gulping down the red berries - stuffing themselves with a hearty communal breakfast before setting about their task of building their first nest of the season. I love it that they stick together – friends – enjoying the bounty provided for them before launching into their work of the season.

For birds, that work is nesting. For gardeners, it is planting. I am back in my garden, launching the effort for 2010. The first warm days sent me scurrying out to spread compost, sharpen tools, and buy seeds. I have been watching the sun, trying to anticipate its path for optimum benefit for my small kitchen garden. And I am finding new places to reclaim for my much desired tomatoes – a place that’s not only sunnier, but in full view of the squirrels who are also watching me, anticipating the juicy, succulent fruit as much as I am. This year, I am determined to eat more tomatoes than those little pests. If I am successful, there will be plenty for both of us.

So I planted some cool weather vegetables. Brussel Sprouts seem to be an in-style veggie, so I planted those. I am envisioning cutting the little cabbages off the stalk, cutting them in half and sautéing them. I also planted two rows of sugar snap peas and created a trellis for them to climb toward the sun – with those I imagine a nice stir fry. I planted some lettuce varieties and onions and radishes and my mouth can already taste that first spring salad – estimated time until eating – 65 days!

What I love about all of this is others are growing things too. Our church is starting a community garden. My neighborhood has garden plots and we are chatting about things like manure and bone meal and all of us are dreaming of the fruits of our effort. It’s fresh and promising. If you haven’t stuck your bare hands down into the earth, pushed little seeds down into the soil and covered them like you were bedding down a baby, you haven’t lived. See, there is this promise of growth – that with the sunshine and the rain and the warming temperatures and our nurturing, those little seeds will sprout and grow and climb and bear fruit. And so we must tend the garden.


Solomon made some serious observations about the way we live – “a season for every activity under heaven”. And the Byrds sang it – you know the words – turn, turn, turn. Solomon also said that God has set eternity in the hearts of men and we don’t understand it, but we can trust it and enjoy it as he gives us glimpses in creation. Like the little “glimpse” of a fact I noticed watching the weather channel. Of course we all know the days are getting longer. But did you know that the earth turns just enough for the sun to rise one-two minutes earlier each day until June? No more, no less – just a steady, ticking of time, a minute or two a day. I guess that’s why we love spring – the days are longer and we have more light in which to work. Solomon also said that there is nothing better for a man than to enjoy his work. This season - a season of light-filled mornings, longer days, and warmer temperatures we should ask ourselves the question, “Am I enjoying my work?”