Change

The cucumber plants have died. The pepper plants are dying. It’s time to call the summer garden done and begin preparations for fall.

Change is never easy. The end of something you loved, successful or not, is a loss. The days are over when I can fix or improve this year’s harvest. It was what it was and now I must move on.

This year, that moving on involves work. My fence is broken down and torn apart in places. My soil is diseased and in need of restoration. My body tells me to stop bending over the fence to harvest and develop a means of easier access. So, I have called in my garden helpers, and we will slowly reconfigure the garden. It is too much to do in a day. And I have at best one morning a week to give to my garden. And I have some time before I need to plant again, so I am in no hurry.

This seems to be the way most change happens, slowly, over time, a little bit at a time. Not all change is good, but not all change is bad either. This tearing down of my garden feels destructive. I’m ripping up dead plants, pulling out supporting cages, and tearing down protective fences. This can’t be good, right?

Now I will tell you what I will do to my vineyard. I will remove its hedge, and it shall be devoured. I will break down its wall, and it shall be trampled down. Isaiah 5:5.

But the garden is such a glimpse of a larger reality. I know that all this destruction will enable my garden to produce more and better fruit in the future. I know that this destruction is not permanent. Like re-breaking a bone before you can set it properly, sometimes things have to get worse before they can get better.

We know it’s true, but it’s hard to see when our lives are being ripped up, our support pulled away, and our defenses destroyed. It just feels like destructive change. It feels like judgment.

Perhaps it is judgement, in the sense that I know my garden can produce better fruit than it did this past year. This year’s harvest was fine. I loved the few tomatoes I got, the random cucumbers, the scanty basil leaves, but I know the space has produced better in the past. If I want it to produce better in the future, some destruction needs to happen.

Perhaps God knows that you are capable of oh-so-much more than you are producing right now. Not that what you are giving to the world right now is bad or unappreciated, just that God wants your life to be abundant and your garden to be fruitful.

I am the vine, and my Father is the vinegrower. He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Every branch that bears fruit, he prunes to make it bear more fruit. John 15:1-2.

The problem, of course, is that the promised benefit is in the future. Right now, all we sense is destruction and judgment.

If, however, our desired goal is a closer relationship with God and if difficulties, change, and disruptions deepen and strengthen that relationship, then we can see them as pruning, as ensuring an abundant future. If our desire goal is a comfortable, easy life, we will not see the beauty in overturning the garden.

The transformation of my garden will take a while. I hope you will continue to join me by reading along. I can’t promise it will be pretty, but I am confident that God will bring something good out of all of it.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Just Enough

I am new to growing figs, but I was encouraged to grow them by the baskets full of figs that friends have shared in the past. Too much to eat, too much to process, too much to share. For some reason, that has not been my experience.

My tree is producing figs and they are delicious! Sweet and pithy, they dissolve in my mouth, and I love having them available. But they ripen one at a time every few days. So, if I share a ripe fig with you, it is the one and only ripe fig I have that day. Tomorrow I may have another one, but if I don’t eat it soon, it will become overripe.

As grateful as I am for each and every fig, I also feel a little, well, disappointed. I don’t want to share the few I have and yet I would like to have enough to share them with others, let others share my joy, perhaps brag a little. And there’s the rub. I want a big harvest partially so you will be impressed by my big harvest.

See how God has blessed me! Oh, yes. God definitely gets the credit. I can not make a single fig appear, or a tomato or a cucumber or even a basil leaf. But there is still pride in showing off how much God has blessed my gardening efforts, and some embarrassment when those blessings seem a little scarce and far apart.

Am I now seeking human approval or God’s approval? Or am I trying to please people? If I were still pleasing people, I would not be a servant of Christ. Galatians 1:10.

Sometimes, God seems to give to us abundantly and sometimes only just what we need for today. And it is tempting to think that this has something to do with us, with our efforts and attitudes, with our righteous living or poor decision making. But it could have more to do with God than with us.

Perhaps he gives us abundance so that we can share, just enough so that we can trust in His providence, and not quite enough so that others can be generous. Perhaps a limited supply is the blessing.

So, God has blessed me with a few ripe figs, and I am grateful for them. I don’t have enough to make fig preserves or take a basket to my friends, but I have one for today and one for tomorrow and what more, really, does anyone need?

Give us this day our daily bread. Matthew 6:11.

In this culture where more is better, we may confuse abundance with blessing. It may be tempting to think that riches signify God’s approval. God may give us riches for His purposes, but He may also call us to sell all that we own (Mark 10:21). He may tell us to take nothing with us (Luke 9:3). He may even turn our idea of blessing on its head.

Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you. Matthew 5:11-12.

These ripening figs are a gift. An underserved gracious gift from a loving God. I will be grateful and not complain that there is not more. I do not need more. He has provided what I need, my daily fig.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Hidden by Weeds

I did a little long-overdue weeding of my cucumber patch and look what I found – a cucumber hidden by the weeds, over ripe and rotting on the ground.

My first thought was anger at myself for having missed it when it was green. If I had kept the weeds at bay, if I had been more diligent in training the cucumbers to the climbing cage, if, if, if. We’ve all done that, or, at least, I hope I’m not the only one who does that. But who knows why I missed it. It doesn’t change the fact that I did. Coulda, woulda, shoulda, didn’t.

It’s got me thinking about other kinds of fruit that could be hidden under other kinds of weeds.

I’m in the middle of a rather large purchase of lake front property right now, and it has me anxious. I know, do not be anxious about tomorrow, but I really want this to happen and am missing my husband. I am riddled with concern that I am messing it up or forgetting something vitally important or making a huge mistake or biting off more than I can possibly chew. I am letting the weeds grow up.

As for what fell among the thorns, these are the ones who hear; but as they go along their way, they are choked by the cares and riches and pleasures of life, and their fruit does not mature. Luke 8:14.

Or it rots unseen.

When I am anxious, I tend to be short with people, easily agitated, impatient. Love and gentleness may be present in my life, but it is hidden when I am anxious. And if I don’t tend to these weeds now and let that fruit be seen, the opportunity to do so may be lost.

Because that cucumber when ripe would have been a blessing. I love cucumber sandwiches. I love to munch on crispy slices, plain or with a little basil. Cucumbers are a wonderful addition to corn salad or tossed salad. But the moment for that cucumber to be a blessing has passed. It was lost because I let it be hidden under the weeds.

Now and for the next few months I will be dealing with a host of new people, attorneys and landscapers, builders, surveyors, and the corps of engineers to make this lake property a reality. I will have many opportunities to bear the Spirit’s fruit and further the kingdom, or hide that fruit under the weeds of anxiety, the cares and pleasure of life. And if that fruit is hidden now, it may never have the opportunity to bless the person for whom God is growing it.

Perhaps this rotting cucumber is calling me to weed now and avoid the coulda, woulda, shoulda of missed opportunity.

Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your requests be known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:6-7.

I pick the rotting cucumber and add it and the pulled weeds to the compost pile. God can turn even our failures into blessing. And I head inside to spend some time weeding my soul as I have weeded the garden.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Not Dead Yet!

The vegetable plants are dying; even the weeds are wilting. As the temperature nears one hundred again, most of my plants have called it quits for the year. Enough already, it’s too hot.

I can relate. The afternoons have found me huddling in my house, air conditioner churning away, book in hand. Even the lake is little respite as the water is warm and the breeze even warmer. What did people do before ac?

I go to the garden while the sun is still low in the morning sky. Already the dew has evaporated in the heat. I water my dying plants and look for signs of life. My basil, oregano, and peppers still survive. The raspberry and fig seem undeterred. My poor cucumbers are almost gone. Almost.

Above the browning leaves and dying stalks, amidst the weeds that grow no matter what, a lone cucumber plant is holding forth. Like a character in a British comedy, I hear him cry. “I’m not dead yet!” Okay, mostly dead, or that is, alive.

What a reminder this little plant is to not jump to the ending too soon.

Yes, it is mid-August, and the cucumbers will die off soon, but that is no reason to call them dead before they are. Unlike my tomato plants which have been dead from blight for a month now, these cucumbers still have life in them. Who knows, with cooler temperatures and ample water, they may still produce.

Having faith can feel naïve sometimes, like foolishness even (maybe especially) to ourselves. Any sane person would know that the cucumbers are on their last leg and there is no point in nursing along the dying plant in a fanciful wish that they will produce at this late stage. Any sane person would know that a dead man doesn’t just rise from the grave and walk again, not after he was true and fully dead.

For the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. 1 Corinthians 1:18.

Because with God, nothing is impossible. Let that sink in a minute. Let that shake your cynicism, your world-wise skepticism. It’s not normal for a sea to part, a virgin to give birth, or the sun to move backward on the sundial, but can you say with assurance that God didn’t make it possible? Are you so sure that your constraints can be applied to an eternal, omniscient, all-powerful God?

I don’t know that God will cause cucumbers to grow on this hardy plant, but I believe He can. And in that faith, I will water and tend this little plant for as long as it is green. I will move forward with plans that may not come to fruition. I will work to be kind to those who hurt my feelings and gentle toward those who anger me.

And in those relationships that have been damaged by broken trust, unkind actions, differing agendas, I will hear the faint whisper of “I’m not dead yet.” Who knows, with cooler temperatures and ample water, they may still live.

Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. 1 Corinthians 12:7.

What are you facing today that makes you want to throw up your hands and walk away? What hope do you harbor that wisdom would say is foolish? What are you bearing that is just too much, what plant are you watering in hopes that it will survive? Keep bearing, keep believing, keep hoping, keep enduring.

God is not dead, not even mostly dead. He is alive and well and active in the world. And with God, nothing is impossible.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Figs

School has started and summer draws to a close. My garden is winding down as well. The leaves on the cucumber plants have begun to wither and there are no more blossoms on the peppers. Soon it will be time to harvest the basil and freeze pesto for the winter. But my figs – they are telling a different story.

I have eaten ripe figs in early August, so I know that these figs may be ripening late, but what a gift! This is year three for my fig tree, the year they are due to bear fruit, and my little tree is loaded with green buds. As I slowly dismantle my garden, I know these buds will grow larger and turn purple, soft, and delicious.

The promise of fruit, the waiting as the plant grows, the excitement as the fruit appears, this anticipation is one of the great joys of gardening.

So often, our food needs are met immediately. We go to the store, get what we want, and eat it. Is it winter? That is no problem. Someone has shipped fruit and vegetables from a warmer clime or grown them in a hothouse. You can get almost any produce even on the coldest days. No waiting, no anticipation.

A garden reminds us that God did not create a world where our wants were met immediately. He created a world of seasons, of fluctuations in temperature and rainfall, of planting and waiting.

Be patient, therefore, beloved, until the coming of the Lord. The farmer waits for the precious crop from the earth, being patient with it until it receives the early and the late rains. James 5:7.

It’s hard to be patient. It’s difficult to wait. How long, O Lord?

As children, we must wait to grow up, until we are large enough, smart enough, old enough, until we are mentally and physically capable. As adults we must wait (hopefully) for the right spouse, the right job, the right place to live. We wait to have children and then wait for them to mature. We wait for wrong doers to be brought to justice and good people to get a reprieve from their troubles. We wait for God to change the people around us and, if we are honest, to change us as well. We wait for figs to ripen.

While waiting, we continue in our daily tasks of tending. We water and weed the garden. We struggle at the challenges of the day. We help those around us. We aid those who are hurting and love our neighbors. We pray and meditate on scripture. We listen for God’s call to us and follow Him.

He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God? Micah 6:8.

And as we go about our tasks, the fig ripens. The child grows up, we find a soulmate, we find purpose in a vocation, wrongs are righted, and prayers are answered. We may even realize that we have been changed by the presence of the Holy Spirit in our lives.

The day will come when these figs are ready to harvest. The day will come when we are ready to face the Lord. The day will come when God puts all his enemies under his foot. Until that time, persevere in your daily tasks, pray without ceasing, savor the joy of anticipation, learn the peace of patience, wait for the fig to ripen.

Because those figs would not taste good today, but in the future, they will be delicious!

Love in Christ, Betsy

Compost

I am grateful for the tomatoes I picked earlier in the season because that is all I am getting this year. The blight has taken the rest of my plants, including the new ones. The ground is soggy from all the rain preventing me from taking much more action this late in the season.

My friend’s garden has yielded abundant large red tomatoes, but not my garden, not this year.

Failure is just a way of showing us where we can improve. A challenge; a test. My soil is damaged and I will need to intentionally restore it this fall.

To help the effort, I started a compost pile where the sugar snaps grew. I collect my non-animal food trash, add it to dead leaves and old straw, and toss them with a rake every few days. Our daily rains have kept the pile damp and moldering. The ever-growing combination of leaf litter, coffee grounds, straw, and vegetable waste will not only benefit the ground it’s on now but hopefully replenish the tomato plot when I move it there.

My original plan was to move the compost in September, but since my tomato plants are all dead or dying, I will move it in August. When I take down the fence in September, I can begin working the compost into the soil where I plant the tomatoes and let some clover grow.

There’s no guarantee that this will work. But if I am to produce tomatoes, I need to provide the plants with better soil. Like the gardener and the fig tree, I’m not willing to accept the failing crop.

Then he told this parable: A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came looking for fruit on it and found none. The gardener replied, “Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it.” Luke 13:6,8.

Manure. Vegetable waste. Leaf litter. Refuse or worse. This is what the soil needs to enable the plant to bear fruit. Throw some s*** at it.

Yep, that may be what we need as well. It’s certainly not what we want. We don’t want to be mushrooms, kept in the dark and fed manure. We don’t want our lives uprooted and covered in cast-off trash and excrement. Even if that’s not literal, life can feel that way at times, and it is not fun.

But sometimes that may be just what we need. We may need to feel like we’ve been dug around. We may feel like all we get are the dregs. We may feel put upon and afflicted. We may be put upon and afflicted.

So, we do not lose heart. Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. For this light and momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure. 2 Corinthians 4:16-17.

We just need to have faith that God is doing something, something that will enable us to bear good fruit. We may need what is afflicting us, whatever compost has been tossed in our lives, to grow. Whatever gross, yucky, trashy, uncomfortable thing is going on in our lives right now might be just what we need. Faith says God knows what He is doing and that He will work all things together for good for those that love Him (Romans 8:28).

Failure shows us where we can improve. My soil needs improvement and replenishment. My life may as well. That may come from God digging around and adding manure to my life, just as I dig around and add compost to my garden. All in preparation for a bountiful harvest and the weight of glory.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Not a Bell Pepper

At the garden store this past spring, I bought two red bell peppers and one yellow bell pepper. This gorgeous pepper is not a bell pepper.

This has happened to me before. The plants look similar and are often returned by shoppers to an incorrect shelf. One year, the pepper we bought by mistake was so hot that we had to wash our hands after touching it. I think this is a Marconi, which is a sweet pepper, just not bell shaped. Of course, I won’t really know until I dare to taste it.

I am sure the plant had a little marker stuck in the soil to identify it. I even put those in the ground next to the plant. Only now, months later, it is not there. I can’t even blame the wrong plant on mislabeling. I may just have been too casual in identifying it. I may have assumed that since it was with the bell peppers, it was indeed a bell pepper. My bad.

You will know them by their fruits. Are grapes gathered from thorns, or figs from thistles? Matthew 7:16

That is not a bell pepper. Being close to plants growing the desired fruit does not make it those plants, any more than the weeds growing in my garden are peppers.

Going to church on Sundays does not make you a believer. If you are a believer, that is certainly where you want to be, who you want to associate with, how you connect with the larger body of Christ. If you are a bell pepper, you want to grow in the garden with the rest of the peppers.

But our presence is not the final word. God wants more from us than just proximity. He wants more than just the appearance of right living. He wants a man after his own heart (1 Samuel 13:14), a contrite heart (Psalm 51:17), someone who will love him (Matthew 23:37).

You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might. Deuteronomy 6:5.

And if we do this, good fruit will follow. Because a good tree cannot bear bad fruit, nor can a bad tree bear good fruit. (Matthew 7:18).

I hope this is not bad fruit growing in my garden. I hope it’s just not what I was expecting. The truth will be in the taste, but I will let it grow for now.

It’s not unlike God to surprise us sometimes. I think He enjoys leaving us little surprise gifts, much like any parent wants to surprise their child with a treat. Or maybe He is encouraging me to be more alert when picking plants. Maybe He is showing me a pepper I will like better than the bells. Maybe He is teaching me that good fruit can look different from what I expect.

The plant is healthy. The plant is producing. The fruit looks like good, albeit unexpected, fruit. It may be a gift. I don’t want to pull it and discard the gift. I certainly don’t want to be found fighting against God because it was not what I expected (Acts 5:39).

When harvest time comes, when the pepper is ready to pick, the truth will be known. For now, I’ll pull only the weeds. I know they are not bearing any good fruit. I will let the pepper grow and see what God has in store.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Garlic Harvest

The plants were brown and brittle; it was time to harvest the garlic. With no effort, I grabbed the stiff stalks and pulled the bulbs from the ground. Some bulbs were noticeably larger than others, although I could not see much difference in the stalks.

That’s the tricky thing about root vegetables. It’s difficult to know the health or size of the root because we cannot see it through all the dirt. I had an indication that the garlic bulbs were growing because the plants sent up those amazing stalks and pincushion flowers. But I wasn’t sure they were healthy until I harvested them. They may have been moldy from too much rain.

The first root plants I grew, carrots, were a huge disappointment. Beautiful fluffy leaves, tiny sour carrots. You just don’t know until they are uprooted from the ground.

It’s got me thinking about the thief on the cross beside Jesus. I don’t know but I would have to guess that there was little if anything about his life up to that point which would indicate a good heart. Nothing that was visible or readily observable. In his own words, he deserved to be there on that cross.

And we indeed have been condemned justly. For we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong. Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” He replied, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” Luke 23:41-43.

That tiny bulb of faith, invisible to those standing there, was of value to Jesus. The man’s bad deeds were discarded like the brown stalks of my garlic plants. It may seem a little unfair to the older brothers who bore good fruit and followed the rules. After all, Jesus tells us that we will know a tree by its fruit (Luke 6:43-45, Matthew 12:33). This man’s tree apparently bore bad fruit.

If we must be honest, though, our tree probably does as well. We tend to hold the standards we find easy to meet and dismiss the standards which feel unobtainable. But by God’s standards, we all have fallen short. All of us deserve to be punished for our attitudes and probably our deeds as well. Perhaps, like these garlic plants, we have born no fruit at all.

If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he who is faithful and just will forgive us our sin and cleanse us from all unrighteousness. 1 John 1:8-9.

And that, my friend, is the good news. God pulls up the brittle stalks we show the world and finds the hidden bulbs of our faith. Some are large, some are small, all are treasured.

As long as we have breath, we can call out the name of Jesus like the thief on the cross. And Jesus, who already knows you and wants you to know him, will respond. He, unlike us, can see through the dirt and grime of our lives and see what grows in the darkness. He sees that bulb of faith.

And he believed the Lord; and the Lord reckoned it to him as righteousness. Genesis 15:6.

All you need to do is to plant that first little garlic bulb. That prayer, that scripture, that calling out to Jesus, that instant of belief.

Today, you will be with me in Paradise.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Savor the Tomato

There are moments when life just feels a little overwhelming, when it feels hard even though I know it’s not. There are moments when I doubt what I am doing and why; when I wonder if I am just a happy hamster running around and getting nowhere.

But then, like a pot of gold at the rainbow’s end, I have ripe tomatoes. The birds did not get them; the squirrels did not get them; the blight did not get them. Red, ripe tomatoes grown in my back yard. They are almost too precious to cut into and eat, but I do. Uneaten, they will rot on the counter and that would be too great a waste.

I eat the smaller ones like an apple. They are tangy and juicy and taste like summer. The smell reminds me of my grandparents and my husband. I sense a connection with a long line of ancestors who grew their own food. This is how food should be. A reward for effort and diligence, a gift that grows through God’s miracle of seed and transformation, connecting me with the earth in a way that the ones on sale at Kroger can’t.

I slice and eat the large tomato on white bread with mayo and salt. I only eat white bread with tomatoes and cucumbers in an effort not to overpower their flavors with the flavor of the bread. There is something of childhood in the soft squares of white bread, a simplicity lost in the multigrain, nutty, textured bread I usually favor.

It’s a lot of emotions for lunch.

God said, “See, I have given you every plant yielding seed that is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree with seed in its fruit; you shall have them for food.” God saw everything he had made, and indeed, it was very good. Genesis 1:29,31.

Too often I go through the motions. I do what needs to be done without much thought. I lose myself in a book or a movie. I eat the food in front of me and talk to the people around me and remember very little of it. This simple meal of homegrown tomatoes reminds me to be fully present in every moment as I am in this one.

This food, these people, these tasks have meaning and purpose. Their stories are the culmination of generations of stories. Our interactions are woven into a tapestry that will ripple through future generations. Don’t breeze through it; don’t let it pass without giving it your attention. Somehow, the simple act of savoring this one tomato sandwich has slowed time for me, infused this moment with meaning, and shown me a purpose in my actions. I work in the garden so that I can savor this sandwich. I write this so perhaps you can savor this moment as well.

We are all so beautifully connected and interrelated, with each other, with those who came before us and those that will come after us, with the earth and everything on it. This moment may only be a drop of rain in a torrential storm, but without the individual drops there would be no rain at all.

I give thanks to God for this moment, this tomato, this opportunity to share His wonders with you. It is indeed very good.

Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name. Bless the Lord, O my soul, and do not forget all his benefits. Psalm 103:1-2

Love in Christ, Betsy

Leap of Faith

Oh, these enthusiastic cucumbers! Provided with easy access to climbing trellises, they instead reach for the fence and once secure there, leap into space, fully expecting to find something there.

I am a little frustrated that they aren’t as obedient as the tomatoes that grow peacefully withing their prescribed area. But, for the most part, I admire them. Just because the trellis is there doesn’t mean it limits their growth. They are secure enough to try new things, branch out (literally) into new territory, take a leap of faith. The structure is there if they need it, but who knows what new avenues may be available?

Perhaps they know at some level that if their wanderings get too out of hand or become dangerous to themselves or other plants, I, as the gardener, will corral them back into the garden space.

Perhaps we can have the faith of a cucumber as well.

The structure of the church is a good thing. It keeps us grounded in Biblical tradition and the wisdom learned by those who went before us. But that structure is a trellis and not a cage. Listen to your spiritual leaders but take everything to God in prayer. The Holy Spirit lives in believers and is there to remind us of scripture and lead us to truth. Anyone who reads the Bible regularly in a spirit of prayer knows that God reveals different things at different times through the same words.

Indeed, the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing until it divides soul from spirit, joints from marrow; it is able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart. Hebrews 4:12.

The word of God may encourage us to make a leap of faith. It could be that what we have heard said is no longer the standard; Jesus may be giving us a new and better one. (Matthew 5:21-48). We may love our spiritual leaders and appreciate the structure they provide for our growth, but Jesus encourages us to do more than recite their beliefs. He calls us to listen to Him, to God, to Jesus, to the Holy Spirit. He wants us to put our faith, not in the wisdom of those around us, but in Him and Him alone.

I have said these things to you while I am still with you. But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you. John 14:25-26.

I have faith that The Holy Spirit will correct my thinking if my wanderings go too far or become dangerous to my faith or the faith of others. God wants me to grow and bear fruit. He has put this desire in me, to reach, to grow, to take the leap of faith, to move forward even when the support is not obvious. Perhaps he has put that urge in you as well.

Do not fear, for I am with you, do not be afraid, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my victorious right hand. Isaiah 41:10.

Is there something you have always been told that may need rethinking today? Ask God’s Holy Spirit to open your heart to the scriptures and take a leap of faith.

Love in Christ, Betsy