Author: betsysdavies

I love you anyway

I have taken my coffee cup out to the garden with me. I know I do not need to keep my hands free for garden work. There is nothing to pick. I’m letting the weeds grow. The garden is amazingly verdant for August. Recent rains, daily watering through the soaker hose, and cloudy days have encouraged the plants to stay green and growing. There are still new tomatoes growing but all the bigger ones have been taken.

As I sip my coffee and stare at the garden, a line from a children’s book rolls through my head.

“I love you anyway.”

My daughter had shown me the book. Olivia’s spirited and rambunctious approach to life has exhausted her mother. At bedtime she tells Oliva that her constant motion is a challenge, but she loves her anyway. Falling asleep, Olivia mutters “I love you anyway, too.”

 I love my tomato plants anyway. Even if they are riddled with weeds and devoid of fruit.

God has taught me this skill. He loves me anyway when I am riddled with weeds and devoid of fruit. God loves every one of us anyway.

I know this because Jesus loved people anyway. He loved the woman living out of wedlock (John 4), loved those caught in adultery (John 8), loved the ones the church would not accept – the crippled, the lepers and the unclean. He loved uneducated fishermen, agents of the government, the demon-possessed, and the sinners. He loved them all anyway.

And Jesus is the exact representation of God. (Hebrews 1:3)

For I have not spoken on my own, but the Father who sent me has himself given me a commandment about what to say and what to speak. And I know this commandment is eternal life. What I speak, therefore, I speak just as the Father has told me. John 12:49-50.

And what does Jesus say?

I do not judge anyone who hears my words and does not keep them, for I have come not to judge the world, but to save the world. John 14:47.

He loves us anyway.

Do I love Him anyway? Or do I only love Him because?

Do I love God when my body fails me, when my children are a challenge, when my job falls apart, when my husband dies? Do I love Him when the world seems full of evil and stupidity and selfishness? Do I love Him when I know He could change the situation to better meet my expectations, but He doesn’t? Do I love Him anyway, as He has first loved me?

Do I, as a member of the body of Christ in the world, love you anyway?

Do I love you even when you are obviously sinning? Is your sin any more a barrier to God’s love than my sin? It is not.

I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another. John 13:34-35.

I think I’ll take that up as my mantra for a while – I love you anyway.

I love my garden even when it fails to meet my expectations. I love my church even when it becomes divisive. I love my friends even when they hurt my feelings. I love my family even when we disagree. I love you when you live sinfully, reject the church, follow your own paths, demand your own way, even when you declare yourself less of a sinner than I am.

I love you anyway.

God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. John 3:16.

God loves us anyway. I close my weary eyes and whisper, “I love you anyway too.”

Love in Christ, Betsy

No Harvest

I tell myself to persevere, but I am tempted to give up. Predators have stolen my tomatoes once again, despite the bird netting, despite the fence, despite the marigolds, despite the hot sauce. My harvest basket remains empty and despair creeps in.

Why did I ever think I could grow tomatoes? Nick could grow them. We had surplus tomatoes every year. We gave them away to anyone who would take them. I have not harvested any this year except the little cherry ones. I recognize I should be grateful for these little gems. Just as I was grateful for my one cucumber last week.

I should focus on my abundant basil, the peppers growing larger every day, the success of the sugar snaps and garlic earlier. I have so much to be thankful for, why does the lack of large red tomatoes depress me?

The growing season isn’t even over. My tomato plants are still green. They still have blossoms and little green tomatoes. I can redouble my efforts to protect them from whoever is stealing them, but I have lost any expectation of a ripe tomato.

Sometimes, things just don’t turn out like we wanted them to, expected them to.

I’ve been digging deep into the story of Joseph from Genesis. God gave him a dream of leadership, then his brothers sold him into a foreign country as a slave. Talk about life not living up to your expectations! Perhaps I am projecting his imagined despair on my garden troubles. Certainly, the absence of red tomatoes pales in comparison.

But the question remains the same. How do we, how do I, respond?

My brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of any kind, consider it nothing but joy, because you know that the testing of your faith produces endurance, and let endurance have its full effect, so that you may be mature and complete, lacking in nothing. James 1:2-4.

And the only way my endurance will grow to have its full effect is if I endure things. Like a barren garden. Because a life without tomatoes is nothing compared to a life without Christ. I must take this challenge and learn from it, grow from it, endure it, give thanks for it even.

This is difficult because I don’t yet know what exactly I am supposed to be learning, if in fact I am supposed to be learning anything at all. Perhaps to not expect to succeed at everything? Perhaps to be grateful for what I do have instead of focusing on what I don’t? Perhaps to learn to persevere, endure in the face of failure?

When anger and condemnation arise in me do I consider myself a failure as a follower of Christ? When I see others falling short of a bountiful crop of spiritual fruit, do I doubt their motives, their commitment, their faith? I still have a garden, even if others have tomatoes and I do not. I am still a gardener. Tomatoes are still growing in my garden. I am just not getting to harvest them. They are not benefiting me personally. How vain to consider it loss if I do not benefit. Isn’t God concerned with all His creation?

Perhaps the fruit you are bearing isn’t benefiting you either. Perhaps God is growing it in you to benefit someone else. Perhaps that is the purpose of all the fruit we bear.

Or He may just be teaching me to endure. If Christ is our model and the perfect reflection of God, consider how much He endured – abandonment, torture, crucifixion, death. God has endured humanity’s failure, betrayal, resistance, refusal to believe and obey. He endures our fruitlessness to this day.

God has not given up on me or you or anyone else in the world. I will not give up on my garden. I will love it and care for it and tend to it. And I will thank God for teaching me to endure.

The Lord is not slow about his promise, as some would consider slowness, but is patient with you, not wanting any to perish, but all to come to repentance. 2 Peter 3:9.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Rain

As I step out the door the air meets me like a blanket, thick and heavy. Just moving through the dense atmosphere causes the molecules to turn to water on my arms. It’s going to rain. Any minute the humidity will increase one more percent and the water will become too heavy for the air and clouds to hold.

I walk quickly, since I am not earthy enough to garden in the rain. A cucumber has been slowly growing on my dying vines. Every day I check its thickness, its color, its length, and pray no animal has taken it in the night. It is still there. Stubby but turning light. I pick it, amazed and grateful that my cucumber vines have put forth such a grand effort in their dying days.

Perhaps the coming rains will bring new life to this old vine. Perhaps the rain will cool the ground and air and make life easier for these precious plants. Perhaps not. This is God’s call. I don’t control the weather.

My tomatoes are recovering from their previous attack. The netting seems to be working for now. Each plant has small green orbs sucking in moisture and nutrients through the branches. Soon rain will supplement the city water I send them through the soaker hose. Hopefully the rain will last long enough to fill the underground reservoirs, to bring the grass in the yard back to life, to bring the music back to my creek.

The rain starts by the time I get to my peppers. They are healthy and green, bearing tiny fruit. When the peppers turn vibrant red and orange and yellow, I will pick them. Such hardy warriors.

Unwilling to stand in the rain, I scan the basil, the raspberry, and the fig from afar. I should harvest more basil soon, but not today. The fruit plants look healthy. No doubt this rain will help them as well.

I turn my face for a moment up to the sky and feel the gentle drops, grateful for it bringing life, grateful for my cucumber.

This is not a storm, blown in by strong winds and darks clouds in a sunny sky. This is one big cloud filling the sky and reaching as low as my yard. There is no wind so I am hoping the cloud will stay and soak my garden, my yard, the earth with water for hours. Perhaps even cool us off a bit, although that is a lot to ask for in late July.

This is just life. I tend the garden. Some seasons are hard on the garden, some seasons are hard on the gardener. God sends heat. God sends rain. It is only through Him, His life-giving, life-sustaining Spirit, that anything grows at all.

Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing. John 15:4-5.

Apart from Christ, apart from God, I can do nothing. I can’t grow; I can’t bear fruit. Even the fruit growing in my garden is beyond my control. What then is my role as a gardener? As a follower of Christ, a believer?

If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. My Father is glorified by this that you bear much fruit and become my disciples. John 15:7.

Lord, thank you for the rain. May it help the garden bear fruit. Thank you for the rain in my life. May it help me bear fruit for you, fruit that glorifies you.

And this is my prayer for each of you as well. May God grow His fruit in your life.

Love in Christ, Betsy

The Heat

With the sun below the tree line, my garden is pleasant this early in the morning. But my cucumbers tell the story. They are dying under the relentless heat. The soaker hose brings them water every morning and blossoms emerge as the plants struggle to produce. I admire their determination. Perhaps the heat will moderate, and the cucumbers will survive. I wish there was more I could do for them.

As I head indoors, I feel almost guilty. My cucumbers do not have the luxury of coming with me. Due to circumstances beyond their control, the cucumber plants must stay outside under the grueling heat all day. Suddenly I see the woman at the intersection who spends the entire day walking back and forth under the sun with her cardboard sign. Did circumstances beyond her control put her there; keep her there? Did some bad decision twenty years ago make her stand under the sun today?

I don’t walk in my garden in the heat of the day, but many people don’t have the luxury of avoiding the heat. They may work outside. They may live outside.

The topper on my boat was bent during a storm on Father’s Day. Now when I go out on the lake, I go in the morning before it gets too hot, at least until I get the topper fixed. And I spend a lot of time in the water. What if these luxuries were not available to me? Would I be strong enough to stand beside this woman at the intersection for even an hour? Or would I, like my cucumber vines, wither in the heat?

How did our ancestors manage? Were they that much stronger than I am, or did they not have any alternatives? Drought and famine caused Jacob and his family to cross the desert and move to Egypt, caused Naomi to move to Moab and return with Ruth. Economic hardships have brought millions of families to the United States from every continent. I have never faced that level of heat.

But many people face it every day.

Not all my garden suffers. The tomatoes have fruit; the peppers have budding flowers; the basil is thriving. But my cucumbers are hurting.

For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is in Christ…that there may be no dissension within the body, but the members may have the same care for one another. If one member suffers, all suffer together with it. 1 Corinthians 12:12,25-26.

We have become divided, and some members of our body are suffering. I do not have the answer for this except to pray and care for one another. The cool weather which was good for my sugar snaps would stunt my peppers and tomatoes. The heat which is wilting my cucumbers is encouraging my basil and fig to grow.

I can’t make it cooler for my cucumbers. I am not sure God would want me to if I could. Perhaps my call is simply to do what I am doing. Give them water, give them some added nutrients, do what I can to help them survive the heat. God may have a higher purpose in the heat, drought, and famine. He may be building a nation in exile. He may be bringing Ruth to a new husband. He may be populating a new country with a mix of nationalities. He may be growing new things in His garden.

What I can do is love. Love my garden, love nature, love people, love the church, the body of Christ.

Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful. It does not rejoice in wrongdoing but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. 1 Corinthians 13:4-7.

I will strive today to not demand my own way, to not be irritable and resentful, to endure all things. Even the heat.

Love in Christ, Betsy

What do I see?

The hour is early, and dew still covers the grass. The sun peeks through the tree line. Soon it will crest the woods and fix its burning gaze on my plants, but for now I can walk my garden in long sleeves. The soaker hose is bringing life-sustaining water, and the plants seem to be enjoying this morning respite from the heat as much as I do.

I approach my tomatoes with trepidation. Are they still there, or has some thief in the night come and stole them? With relief I see the green orbs still attached to their branches. I have yet to harvest a red tomato this year. The heat is crippling my cucumber vines. Each morning, I peruse these plants and harvest nothing. The empty harvest feels personal.

Is there more I should be doing? Did I make a critical mistake earlier? If so, can I correct it? Am I letting other distractions take precedence over my garden? Have I overestimated my abilities as a gardener?

I turn my attention to the basil bush. Bursting with leaves and perfuming the air, it calls for me to reap its bounty. I have pulled up all the garlic and processed it. Peeled, minced and frozen dozens of cloves which are now ready to be used when needed. This may well be the summer of pesto, served with pasta since I have no tomatoes.

The fig and the raspberry grow large and healthy, and my sense of failure begins to ease.

How good God is to give us different plants that fail or thrive in different seasons and in different climates. Biodiversity. If I had only grown cucumbers this year, the heat would have felled my entire crop. If I had only grown tomatoes, the fear of no harvest might be crippling. It could well be that that this is just a year for other things to grow.

Now there are varieties of gifts, but the sane Spirit; and there are varieties of service, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone. To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good, 1 Corinthians 12:4-7.

God is working on me to go out to the garden in expectations of a harvest, in gratitude for what is growing, in praise of His provision. There are green tomatoes on the vine. There is abundant basil. There are blossoms on the pepper plants. It is only mid-July.

I pull some of the weeds that are encroaching on the raspberry bush while the ground is still damp. This I can do. I can keep the weeds from overtaking the plants, even if I can’t keep them out of the garden. I can check the netting for gaps, sprinkle hot sauce around the plants, and try to discourage invaders.

I lift my head and listen to the birds. A small bunny darts from the hedgerow, sees me, and darts back under cover. Bees hover over the clover nearby, and a wasp lands on the pine bark mulch. My yard is alive in the early hours. Soon it will be too hot to spend much time here.

I let the garden, nature, God, speak to my fearful and fretful spirit.

Now to him who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can imagine, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen. Ephesians 3:20-21.

There is a lot of work I can and should do in my garden, but the harvest is ultimately the Lord’s. This is His garden, not mine. I am called to care for His creation and love as He loved, tirelessly, sacrificially, and unselfishly. He is able to accomplish… anything, creation with a word.

My role is to love and serve and look to Him.

Betsy

Netting

I lost a tomato the other day. One day it was on the vine; the next it was gone. Despite the marigolds. Time to take defensive actions.

There’s a wonderful movie, Biggest Little Farm, about a couple who bring natural predators onto their farm to combat threats to their crops. Ducks to combat snails; dogs to combat coyotes; owls to combat gophers. After seven years, their farm is in balance, and they harvest a crop.

I’m not that patient or that eager to invite predators into my yard. Instead, I covered my tomato plants with netting and doused the ground with hot sauce.

Netting is tricky. It catches on everything – sticks, weeds, buttons, watches, glasses. Nick had erected metal poles for the netting, allowing the plants to grow tall under the fabric. Each bolt snags the fine mesh.

Two years ago, most of my tomatoes were stolen by critters, even with the bird netting. Between the marigolds and the hot sauce, I am praying the critters find easier dining. That summer, a dispute with a friend had robbed me of my peace just as the squirrels had robbed the garden. In God’s clever way, He is reminding me once again how I often let circumstances rob me of my peace.

Peace and joy and love are fruits of the Holy Spirit, brought to fruition by His presence in my life. When I let circumstances rob me of His fruit, I am throwing away my past growth and efforts as well as depriving the larger world of His gifts. It may take work, but I need to conscientiously protect the tomatoes in my garden and His fruit in my life.

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his power. Put on the whole armor of God, so that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil…. take the shield of faith, with which you will be able to quench all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God. Ephesians 6:10-17.

Our shields can be tricky and our swords awkward. My faith catches on my emotions, my friendships, my concerns. I wonder if I am doing life “right.” Sometimes I wonder if there is a right way, a right side to be on when people disagree. Because people will disagree. Even good-hearted, God-fearing, walking-the-walk Christians.

For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and him crucified. 1 Corinthians 2:2.

The netting I can put over the fruit growing in my life is scripture. Daily immersion in and meditation on the Word of God. Daily prayer and stillness. Giving all my roiling emotions into the Lord’s hands and asking for His guidance.

I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know you are my disciples, if you have love for one another. John 13:34-35.

Jesus’s love for others angered people, even good-hearted, God-fearing, walking-the-walk people. He touched lepers and ate with sinners and spoke to Samaritan women. Am I that loving? Do I love just as Jesus has loved me?

I lost a tomato yesterday. I lost my peace and joy as well. If your garden is suffering as well, join me in protecting the fruit of the Spirit. Join me in learning to love as Jesus loved.

Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a new and right spirit with in me. Do not cast me away from your presence, and do not take your holy spirit from me, Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and sustain in me a willing spirit. Psalm 51:10-12.

Love in Christ, Betsy

In Secret

The tall green stalks are brown and falling to the ground. It is too hot, and they are too old to stand tall and green any longer.

This is good news. These dying plants means the garlic bulbs are ready to harvest.

When I planted the cloves last fall, the instructions indicated that they would sleep all winter, start to grow in the spring and be ready for harvest in late summer. I think they were written for a different climate. My garlic grew all winter. Now they have reached maturity.

Our warmer weather has left me with smaller garlic bulbs than might have grown further north, but they have grown. A bulb of four or five cloves for each single clove I buried. And all with very little effort on my part.

I couldn’t even see the growth happening. Unlike the rest of my garden, this garlic grew in secret.

In happens that way in life sometimes. We can’t see what is happening out of sight. What we do see, the tall green stalks, may wither and die. It is not until we uproot the plant that we discover the delicious reward that God has given us in secret.

But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you. Matthew 6:6.

The growth on my tomatoes is obvious. They are taller, dotted with blossoms, yielding green fruit that is getting larger and lighter by the day. Sometimes life is like that as well. The rewards for our effort seem instantaneous, obvious. Sometimes, God’s Spirit nudges us to action, and when we act, joy erupts. We make that call; the person needed to hear from someone. They are happy; we are happy. Everyone involved is blessed by the presence of God in the little things of life.

But sometimes life is more like the garlic bulbs. It doesn’t look good. It looks like a dying plant. The good news comes in the uprooting.

I pull up the first bulb. The ground releases it easily. The bite of garlic fills my nose, mixed with a hint of wet soil. What a beautiful sight!

Beside it grows the basil, and as I pinch off the maturing leaves, I know pesto in in my future.

My mouth waters in anticipation.

God is planning a marvelous feast for us. Some of the ingredients are bright and beautiful and out in the light for all to see. Like my tomatoes and pepper, they thrive on the sunlight and show their bright colors proudly. Some parts of the feast, like the basil, fill the air with their sweet aroma. And some are being grown in secret, out of sight, waiting for the day when God reveals them.

When I look at my garden, I see the marvelous diversity and inclusiveness of God. He created so many different plants that bless us in so many ways. Some with luscious fruit, some with edible roots, some with tasty leaves. And the best recipes combine them.

I mix the garlic and basil from my garden with the nuts and olive oil from someone else’s garden and add cheese some cow provided. I was given a new food processor for Christmas and the pesto-making is easy. What wonderful gifts! What an amazing example of how the world can work together to produce something marvelous.

The garlic reminds me to never underestimate what God is doing in secret, out of my sight.

For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts higher than your thoughts. For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven and do not return until they have watered the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish the thing which I purpose, and succeed in the thing for which I sent it. Isaiah 55:8-11.

Betsy

Faithfulness

Faithfulness dictates that I go out to the garden every morning, whether I feel like it or not. Faithfulness means I pull weeds even though it hurts my hands and wrists and shoulders. Faithfulness leads me to water the garden every day it doesn’t rain, even when I want to be doing something else. Faithfulness leads me daily to carefully rearrange growing branches so that they will be supported.

I do these activities because I have faith that they will lead to healthier, more productive plants. These are the daily little activities that constitute gardening. Sure, there are big activities like fencing and planting and managing the harvest, but these little, daily tasks are what ensure the garden thrives.

How like God to encourage and reward our daily little acts of faithfulness.

Life is full of daily little things that enhance our lives and keep us healthy. Brush your teeth; wash your hands; clean the dishes; wash your clothes. Often these daily little tasks exhaust us – not because they are difficult but because they are tedious and repetitive and endless. Their reward is rarely obvious. Our only motivation is what happens if we don’t do them.

My teeth rot: my family falls sick; roaches and mice infest my kitchen; I’m wearing stained and smelly clothes. The weeds overtake my plants; my cucumbers die from lack of water; the tomato branches break off under the weight of any fruit they grow.

There are consequences to a lack of faithfulness in the small things.

Am I reading God’s Word every day? Am I spending time in quiet prayer with Him? Am I thanking God for all the wonderful things He has gifted to us? Sunshine and rain and friends and family and homes and cars and electricity and food? Am I allowing His Spirit space to grow in me? Am I watering and supporting that growth?

His master said to him, “Well done, good and trustworthy slave; you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things, enter into the joy of your master.” Matthew 25:21.

Experience and science have long taught us that we adapt to our surroundings. Spouses tend to look like each other after a while; employees dress like their boss; animals evolve camouflaging colors and snouts and beaks for better dining. I wonder if we could adapt to better reflect Jesus if we spent more time with him. If I spent hours with Him every day, would I begin to talk like Him? React like Him? Love like He loves?

My daily treks to the garden, my constant exposure to growing plants, has taught me things that google can’t. Being in the garden every day turns my knowledge into a reality that I can touch and feel and smell. Knowing about gardening is not the same as gardening. Knowing about God is not the same as knowing God.

You have to DO it. Do the little tasks that faithfulness demands. Faithfulness can feel tedious. Faithfulness calls us to action when our emotions prefer inaction. Water the plants, pull the weeds, brush your teeth, wash the dishes, read the Bible, get on your knees. Being faithful in these little things brings us face to face with the world we envision – the fruitful garden, the healthy home, the presence of God’s Spirit.

And as we draw closer, as we spend time on faithful tasks, we begin to embody that vision and move closer to making it real.

And all of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another, for this comes from the Lord, the Spirit. 2 Corinthians 3:18.

Brush your teeth today, wash the dishes and thank God for all that He is doing for you. Be faithful and enter into His joy. Look to God, and seeing Him, be transformed into His image.

Betsy

Weeds

Tiny tomatoes dot my plants and blossoms cover my cucumbers, but I feel like a failure.

It’s the weeds. They ring my garden along the fence line and stretch across the cardboard and mulch. These hardy little invaders have burst through the inches of open space between the cardboard and the fence and the landscape timbers. They have overtaken the dying sugar snaps and are threatening the rest of the garden.

How have I let this happen? How did I let weeds overtake my garden?

Should I have tilled? Am I too lazy or weak? Have I spent too much time on other pursuits? Am I a neglectful gardener? Am I simply a bad gardener? Am I a failure?

How can I post a picture of my garden when all anyone will see is my weeds, my weakness?

I am tempted to throw up my hands in defeat.

But I don’t.

I don’t think that is what God wants us to do when the weeds are invading.

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his power. Put on the whole armor of God, so that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. Ephesians 6:10-11.

I think God wants me to learn how to fight the weeds in my garden, the weeds in my life. He is showing me how sin can creep into my life and threaten to overtake the good fruit He is growing. While I am spending time on other pursuits, when I am feeling tired and weak, in the cracks in my faith, sin is creeping in and stretching across my life.

It would be easy to just throw up my hands in defeat. But I don’t think that is what God wants me to do.

Remember the old adage? The only way to eat an elephant is one bite at a time. I pull on my garden gloves and take a bite. I will have to commit to doing this all summer. By the time I am through the garden, weeds will have reappeared in the area I weeded first. The level of commitment needed to combat the weeds scares me. It looks like too big of a problem. It feels like too big of a commitment. Those thoughts of failure creep back in.

Three times I appealed to the Lord about this, that it would leave me, but he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.” So, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so the power of Christ may dwell in me. 2 Corinthians 12:9.

Not exactly Instagram ready, all these weeds, all this weakness. Or maybe it is. Maybe admitting my weakness, my failure, allows someone else to admit theirs. At the very least, such admission gives us the space to be less than perfect. The crazy thing is that I still want to put a picture of a beautiful weed-free garden along with this post. But all the pictures of my garden have weeds in them, because my garden has weeds. Maybe every picture of my life reveals weeds as well.

I am committed to weeding a section of the garden every morning. Rain and overnight dew make it easier, allowing the ground to release the weed with less effort on my part. I often think of water as prayer and the metaphor holds for weeds. Prayer certainly makes removing the weeds from my life easier!

Maybe all my battling with weeds is a way of training me for bigger battles. Perhaps these weeds are training me to not give up, to persevere, to trust in God to give me the strength. Because as followers of Jesus, we will face battles with forces stronger than weeds. Perhaps instead of feeling like a failure, I will be grateful for the training.

Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. 1 Thessalonians 5:18.

Betsy

Beauty and Grief

The morning sun lights up the cloudless blue sky. Masses of tall trees covered in green leaves fill the horizon. Tidy yards of cut green grass border the bottom of my view. It is a beautiful day. But I sit in my chair and cry.

Five years ago, I spent this day in hospice holding my husband’s hand as he took his last breath. I have relived that moment a million times and I relive it now.

The pain radiates from my heart to my throat to my eyes, blocking the beautiful views out my window.

The trill of birdsong makes me lift my head and open my eyes. It is a beautiful world out there. Nick is enjoying beauty beyond compare in his heavenly home. I am sure he would want me to enjoy the beauty God gives us here on earth.

And the garden is calling.

The plants are growing so rapidly now. Every day they are taller and fuller, and blossoms and fruit appear. Their branches need to be lifted and rested on the supports. Weeds need to be pulled. The June sun is sapping the moisture from the ground, and I need to replenish it. How selfish of me to sit in my chair and cry.

As I have adapted to life without Nick, these days come less and less often, these days when life feels almost pointless without him, but they still come.

God’s Spirit gently reminds me that as much as I loved Nick, he was never the point, the purpose of my life. God is.

And God is with me now just as He was when Nick lived. God put me here for a purpose, and God keeps me here for a purpose.

For we are what he has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life. Ephesians 2:10.

I don’t always know what specific good works God has prepared for me, but I know He commands me to love, to share His love with every person I encounter. I admit I have not always done so. I confess I still find this challenging at times. Such a simple command, and yet it sits in opposition to my “me first” mentality. Even now, as I wallow in my chair, it is easier to focus on my pain and my needs then to act in love toward those around me who are hurting and need to sense God’s love.

But God’s call to love one another is enough to get me out of my chair. There are people to call, household chores that need addressing, mail that needs a response. And a garden that needs tending.

I read the scriptures listed for today, spend some time in prayer, and read a short devotional. Then I slip on my garden shoes and head outside.

The sun is shining brightly in the crisp blue sky. Green trees surround my yard, and the babble of the creek sings in the background. Birds fly across the ground and search the green grass for worms. It is a beautiful day.

God loves me. God loves you. With His Spirit’s help and in His name, I love you as well, even if we have never met. What an amazing world God has gifted us to show us how much He loves us – plants and animals and sunshine and rain and beauty all around us.

See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God; and that is what we are. 1 John 3:1.

I am sure my sad days are not over. I will always miss Nick. But God has provided me with a beautiful world, wonderful friends and family, and opportunities to share His love. If you too are sad today, listen for the trill of a bird nearby and lift your eyes to the beauty and love around you.

Love in Christ, Betsy