A Little Change

I’ve had a problem with my lawn service this summer. They come when I am not home. And their mower sprays grass clipping all over my garden plants.

If I were home when they were mowing, I would ask them not to do this. I’m not sure why this is even so much of a problem this year since it hasn’t been in the past. Perhaps they have a new mower, but the problem may be mine. Since I did not pull up all my landscape timbers last year, they have sunk lower into the ground. Several of them are rotting away. The accumulation of grass clipping has hastened this process.

I could text my mower about the problem. I considered replacing all the landscape timbers. But I decided instead to edge the garden with a taller “clipping barrier.” Of course, the stores don’t carry foot-tall edging, so I had to order a trial sample to see if it would work. I like the look.

This edging may help with critter control as well. It’s different. Time alone will tell if it’s better.

My daughter, who works with ministry innovators, often writes about how change often happens slowly, develops through necessity, and occurs when we are focusing on something else. I look at my garden as the sixth summer without my husband draws to a close and I see change.

The bones of my garden are the same. Same poles, same fence posts, same location. But I no longer dismantle it; I no longer let the garden return to grass every year. I have perennial fruit trees and herbs. I pay helpers to assist me. And now I have foot high edging. I am adapting, slowly, by necessity, to gardening without him.

All in an effort to bear fruit.

There’s a lot of discussion about change in the church. When is change necessary to bear fruit for God and when is it conforming to the world? Jesus was an agent of change. He ate with simmers, broke sabbath laws, and overturned the tables in the temple.

The pharisees and their scribes were complaining to his disciples, saying, “Why do you eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners?” Jesus answered, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. I have come to call not the righteous, but sinners to repentance.” Luke 5:30-32.

The established church leaders didn’t like the change. And Jesus didn’t stop at changing the status quo. He sent the Spirit to live within us and change our focus, our attitudes, our actions, and our lives. He takes our established garden and slowly transforms it into a more gracious, more loving, more fruitful place.

Several hundred years ago, women who used herbs to cure ailments were considered witches. Now it’s a multi-million-dollar business. Most Christians have no qualms putting aloe on a burn, drinking chamomile tea to relax, or taking garlic to reduce cholesterol. Some Christians even advocate turning away from established medicine to more homeopathic remedies. They should be grateful the church no longer labels them witches for this.

Is God calling you to make some changes this fall?

Perhaps minor changes like a better edging around your garden space, a more sacred quiet time alone with the Lord, a more intentional effort to keep the litter at bay.

Maybe He is calling you to make a radical change, eat with sinners and social outcasts, try an herbal remedy, go against established church tradition.

I pray that God will always keep me open to the changes He calls me to make. I pray that He will continue to call me, sinner that I am. And I pray that He will bear His fruit in my life and in yours.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Hope in a Raspberry

I step outside and breathe in the cool morning air. I shiver at the breeze, and the dew is almost cold on my feet. Such a change from the scorching temperatures of only a week ago. It feels like a gift.

I had a tough weekend. I went to a writer’s conference at which my book-in-progress was a finalist for an award. Not only did it not win, but it was also trashed in critiques sessions and firmly rejected by agents. I tell you this not to generate your sympathy, but because sometimes life is like that. We do our best at the time, but sometimes it is just not good enough.

I came home wondering if I could do better or if I should abandon this pursuit. How much effort do I continue to put in this garden when it is not bearing fruit?

These were the thoughts that swilled in my head when I stepped outside. The unexpected chill brought me out of that inner world and into the present.

It is a beautiful morning. Wisps of white clouds stretch across a Carolina blue sky. Birds sing and a bumble bee searches the flowers on my aging cucumber vines.

I’ve taken down the bird netting and pulled up the dead tomato plants. Most of my garden is ready to rest, tired from a fruitful summer. But not all of it.

The basil still grows, and I snip off the tall blossoms and inhale their sweet scent. My entire body smiles at this gift. The smell of fresh basil overpowers my sense of failure, and all the negative words fade away. What a simple and beautiful gift this tiny plant is.

For we are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing. 2 Corinthians 2:15.

I lift my eyes in praise for this heavenly aroma and there, on the tips of my raspberry bush, are bright red berries. I was told not to expect fruit this year and was surprised by a few berries in the spring. I am even more surprised by these berries in August.

I have not paid attention to my raspberry bush this summer except to trim it back as it expanded into the yard. Without my notice, this plant had generated new life and now displays its fruit to the world.

Unexpected fruit. I had put the plant in the ground and kept it alive, but beyond that, this raspberry bush is simply doing what it was created to do – grow and bear fruit. No one is teaching it how to do this or telling it if it is doing it well or poorly. The bush is not waiting for another’s affirmation. It is not trying to solve world hunger. It is absorbing the heat of the day and the cool of the morning and bearing fruit.

This is something every one of us can do.

An old saying reminds us that the world would be a quiet place if only the birds with the best voices sang. And the world would starve if only the best plants produced fruit.

I pull off the red berries and eat them on the spot. Sweet and tender, they nearly dissolve on my tongue. This fruit may not be changing the world, but it is changing my world this morning.

Refreshed, I return to my office and start to type. I do not need the world’s affirmation to do what God has put upon my heart to do. I need simply to do it and let Him use that fruit however He sees fit.

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.

God is so good.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Space to Grow

A friend of mine recently posted how her pumpkin and squash vines were taking over her garden.

Vines will do that. The first year my husband and I planted a garden, we put winter squash, summer squash, and cucumbers in a row with no dividers, no fence, and no trellises. They were everywhere. Twisting among themselves, growing across the yard, bearing fruit in the neighbor’s yard.

My friend says her vines have overpowered the rest of her garden, wrapped around the tomatoes, covered the herbs, choked the daintier flowers. Vines such as squash, cucumber, pumpkin, and zucchini grow horizontally, ever outward in search of new frontiers, boldly going where we would prefer that they not go.

Over the years I’ve learned to plant my vines far from the rest of my plant, surround them with fencing and give them something, anything, to climb on. None of this stops them from sending out tendrils into open spaces to explore beyond my boundaries, but it does slow them down and protect the rest of my garden.

At some point, their inquisitive and enthusiastic spirit will redirect its energies into producing fruit – cucumbers, squash, and pumpkins. If you give them enough space, this will happen before they overtake and overwhelm the rest of your garden.

Don’t you know people like that? At times, I am that person.

To my admittedly limited knowledge, no one has developed a less explorative vine, one that will color inside the lines and that knows its place.

As a gardener, it is my job to give these vines the space to explore without letting them infringe on my more sedate plants.

Like good stewards of the manifold grace of God, serve one another with whatever gift each of you have received… so that God may be glorified ion all things through Jesus Christ. 1 Peter 4:10-11.

Society today tends to value cooperation, collaboration, consensus, and cohorts. But some people need the opportunity to stretch and explore and seek new spaces. And just as my cucumbers are rarely stopped by my fencing, our efforts to constrain such free spirits rarely works. And maybe it shouldn’t. Maybe God made them that way for a reason, just as He made my cucumber vines.

We can encourage those plants to be more sensitive to the needs of those around them. We can give them space to explore where they are not infringing on others. Hopefully, we will encourage them to grow freely and with abandonment in the space provided while we provide a protected space that nurtures our plants with a quieter spirit.

There is room in my garden for diverse types of plants. There is room in God’s garden for every kind of plant. He created them all. He knows what is best for each one of them, and for each one of us. He is working to create the ideal environment for each of us to bear fruit for His kingdom.

There’s a good chance that my space won’t look the same as yours.

For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one, so it is with the body of Christ. But as it is, God arranged the members if the body, each one of them, as he chose. If all were a single member, where would the body be? The eye cannot say to the hand, “I have no need of you,” nor again the head to the feet, “I have no need of you.” On the contrary, the members of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable. 1 Corinthians 12:12,14,17-18, 21-22.

Good news, my friend. Grow in peace.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Summer Love

You may know it’s summer because the kids are out of school or the Fourth of July is mere days away, but I know it is summer when I have my first tomato sandwich.

Few things compare to the call of a red tomato dangling from its plant. It calls to something deep inside us – Take, eat. For the past few years, the squirrels have been taking and eating, sensing that same call. This year, it’s my turn.

I usually prefer my sandwiches on rye bread, probably Germanic genes expressing themselves, but not for a tomato sandwich. Only white bread will do, a soft and unassuming base to highlight the tang and tart and sweet of the tomato.

Later in the summer when the newness of having tomatoes wear off, I will add basil and fresh mozzarella to my sandwich, but I savor the first tomato sandwich without distractions.

I take a bit and let my taste buds absorb every drop of the tomato’s tang and its salty juices. The tender meat of the tomato fills my mouth and makes my eyes light up. Wow. That is good!

I have been looking forward to this sandwich since I put that little plant in the ground months ago. This sandwich is why I put that plant in the ground. Why I watered it and weeded it and fenced it and draped bird netting over it. All for this sensation.

My brothers and sister, 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.

At the risk of being sacrilegious, my friends, enduring the struggle of establishing a garden, tending it, and protecting it from predators has produced joy, this first tomato sandwich, lacking in nothing.

The garden isn’t a perfect metaphor for my walk of faith, but it’s a good one. Too often I focus on the grind of gardening, the daily attention it requires, the myriads of things that can go wrong, the nagging doubt that I am doing it wrong, the constant comparisons to other gardens.

But God calls us to tend our own garden. He promises it will be worth it. He encourages us to stick with it because the tomato sandwich it will generate is priceless.

In fact, the fruit that God promises to produce is so wonderful that any effort we may exert to encourage its growth will be washed away in the sheer joy of tasting the fruit. Every effort is worthwhile; nothing else compares.

Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; on finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it. Mattthew 13:45.

This tomato sandwich will soon be gone, and I will want another. A self at peace, a content and restful spirit, an open and generous heart, the joy of loving another, these fruits are eternal. These fruits only God can produce in us.

This tomato, like all my tomatoes, is a summer love. Wonderful, exciting, fulfilling, and short-lived.

God wants to grow eternal fruit in me, fruit that I can share with a hungry world, fruit that enlivens our senses and delights our souls.

By contrast, the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against such things. Galatians 5:22.

He wants to grow that fruit in you as well. It may take a little effort on your part, a commitment to continue when it feels difficult or pointless. But one day that tomato will ripen and you will get to savor His love, and Wow. That is good!

Love in Christ, Betsy

Enthusiasm

I thought my cucumbers were enthusiastic plants, climbing their supports and stretching outside the fence, but they are mild in comparison to this raspberry plant!

In her second year, my raspberry plant has already birthed three new plants in the cracks in the cardboard covering. She is almost six feet tall. I sense I need to cut her back, hem her in, trim off the excess.

I have seen articles and studies on pruning, but I skim right past them. Tomato plants and cucumbers don’t require pruning. Although it’s possible they could be better if I did prune them…

Pruning is an important part of growing perennial plants, but I am new to perennials and have much to learn. Seeing this raspberry bush take over my garden and reach into the yard makes me want to learn. This can’t be best for the plant, best for the berry harvest, or best for me.

And yet, her growth is thrilling. Her enthusiasm for growth is contagious. I want to grow with enthusiasm and burst out all over the place!

My mother used to tamp down my enthusiasm on a regular basis, to the point where I felt like a wild pony trapped in a corral. But she understood. She had been a cheerleader in her youth; enthusiasm runs in my genes. Perhaps she was trying to prune me.

He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Every branch that bears fruit, he prunes to make it bear more fruit. John 15:2.

I am tempted to use this as my guide for how to prune. I am sure Jesus’ listeners at the time knew how to prune; they were grape and olive growers. They were being asked to apply their gardening knowledge to spiritual growth. Perhaps that is what the Holy Spirit would like me to do – learn how to prune this raspberry bush, when and how and to what extent, and apply that knowledge to my spiritual life.

Perhaps the goal should not be excessive growth that spreads out everywhere, but a contained healthy plant that produces much fruit. My smaller tomato plants are covered in green tomatoes, while this huge raspberry produces few berries.

And her uncontained growth is casting a shadow on my fig tree, growing straight and true beside her.

Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others. Philippians 2:3-4.

There’s a chance I, like my raspberry plant, have focused on the wrong thing – expansion verses fruit. There’s the possibility that my naturally enthusiastic self has spread beyond my boundaries and overshadowed another.

The raspberry bush cannot prune herself. It’s as if her enthusiastic nature can’t be contained. And I don’t want to stifle her; I just want her focused more on fruit than expansion. And that will allow my fig tree to flourish as well.

As for pruning my own enthusiasm, Jesus promises that the Holy Spirit will do this if we let him. He will prune us so that we will bear more fruit.

So, I will learn what I need to know about pruning and try to redirect my raspberry plant’s focus. Find the best way to encourage productive growth. Cut out the excess that her enthusiasm has rendered. I need to let the Holy Spirit do the same with me.

When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth; for he will not speak on his own, but will speak whatever he hears, and he will declare to you the things that are to come. John 16:13.

The first thing I need to do is learn. The main thing I need to do is listen. The Master Gardener, the creator of all gardens, the creator of all life, knows what I need to do.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Six Years

The garden is thriving, green tomatoes grow on the branches, but I can barely see them through the cloudy mist in my eyes.

Six years. It’s been six years since cancer sent my husband to the Lord. You would think I would have “moved on.” Maybe I have. I don’t cry for him every day. I have found joy in writing, a purpose in learning. I have found ways to garden and lake and travel without him. But there are moments like today when the loss feels overwhelming.

We had so much fun together. Even when the cancer was eating away at his body, we would take long vacations at the beach and spend weekends on the lake. It’s harder to do those things alone; not the same when I do them with someone else. Nick had endless energy, and an intensity about living life, that I miss. Too often I am inclined to binge-watch some murder/detective/spy series and lose hours that could have been spent in better ways.

I wonder what he would think about my writing. It all came after his death. It would probably be as foreign to him as the hours I spent reading, a difficult task for his dyslexic mind. He was more interested in active pursuits, and he kept me busy.

But life, like my garden, is always changing. It does me no good to pine for what can never be again, at least not on this earth.

But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers and sisters, about those who have died, so that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have died. 1 Thessalonians 4:13-14.

Someday, we will be together again on a new earth where Christ rules.

I will let myself grieve the temporary loss of the man I love, but I will continue to embrace the life that God sends me every morning. These days, like all days, are a gift. I am sure God would like us to use this day loving each other, helping each other, serving each other as Jesus served those around him.

Perhaps God wants me to spend this day thanking him for sending me Nick and the years we had together. So, thank you, Lord, that Nick kept this garden going over the years. Thank you that he erected poles and fencing and buried a hose line. Thank you for being able to go to the beach and the lake and store up treasured memories.

I walk along the garden and let the humidity of the morning bead my arms with water. I marvel at the red raspberries and miniature peppers. I thank Nick for keeping the garden going over the years. I thank God for the rain and the sunshine, the soil, the seed, and the fruit.

Life goes on. The sun rises and sets and days, then months, then years pass. Six years since those days when the earth seemed not to move. Can I take an hour today to re-live them? The day the doctor told me Nick might not live for two hours. (He lived four more weeks.) The day Nick shut his laptop for the last time. The day he agreed to Hospice. The day he took his final breath. The friends and family who gathered around, who held me up, fed me, and sent me flowers.

How can I forget any of that?

What a gift love is. That I loved someone; that someone loved me. That God placed us in community so that we can share our struggles, our grief, our memories. That we can share our growth, our joys, and our hopes as well.

Thank you for being part of my community. Thank you for reading along. Thank you for your understanding as I take a break to grieve.

If you have a moment, check out my author website and information about my novel-in-the-works at Betsy Davies | Author. A lot can happen in six years.

Love in Christ, Betsy

The Simple Things

The air is dense with moisture and the wet grass soaks my garden shoes. It has rained every day since my return from the mountains of Peru. I take deep inhales of the thick air, grateful for the oxygen it brings me so easily, grateful for the level, flat walk across my backyard.

I worried about leaving my garden unattended while I traveled, but I needn’t have. God blessed Middle Tennessee with a cool, wet May, and my garden is thriving. The cucumbers are covered in bright yellow flowers, climbing their trellises and reaching beyond the fence. The tomato plants are tall and green with tiny green tomatoes promising a hearty harvest. I even picked a little red one from my prodigy plant!

The raspberry plant is almost too big, and I found my first red berry this morning! The fig has returned and is green and growing. Life is good in my garden. Only the oregano seems to be struggling. It’s my first season to grow it, so it may just be too early, too cool, or too wet. It’s early June; it has all summer to grow.

Being here in the garden, tucking cucumber vines back inside the fence, complimenting my tomatoes on their growth, reminds me of who I am at my core. I am not a world traveler who revels in new places and new adventures and new challenges. I am a simple girl, who loves to putter in her garden and walk by her creek and listen to the birds call to each other.

God is in the simple things, the scent of mowed grass, the little green tomato, the spreading vine. God is in the wet lawn and the heavy clouds and the thick green hedgerow. God blesses me with bunnies eating clover and ducks in the creek. God has blessed me with a home that feels like home, comfortable, safe, familiar.

Of course, God is in the big things, the marvelous things as well. The majestic mountains, the ingenuity of past people, the diversity of plants, animals, languages, and cultures, the crossing of mountains from dessert to valley to rainforest. Mostly, I am amazed that people without trains, buses, and cars were able to traverse inhospitable lands and build cities, villages, roads, bridges, and complex gardening and watering systems. The Incan Trail is a vast network of walking trails that cover Peru well beyond the tourist areas. None of it is as easy as walking to my garden.

I wonder if the Incan people knew that what they were building would be admired hundreds of years later by people from all over the world. Perhaps they were just tending their gardens, studying the seasons, and admiring God’s creations. Perhaps, like me, they were just living their lives.

I had the opportunity to meet a few of their descendants, speaking their own language, a derivative of the one the Incans spoke, tending to their herds on land that had been in their family forever. The shepherdess couldn’t understand why I wanted to see her and the alpacas. She was just doing what she did every day. Like having someone watch me walk among my garden plants.

Perhaps that is the beauty of God in the simple things. He created all of it and declared it all good. The heavens, the earth, the plants, the animals, and us. He created us to live in harmony and community with each other. He inspired us to cross mountains and build bridges. He encourages us to see His constant presence in the world around us as we go about living our daily life, no matter how mundane our lives may feel to us.

Whatever your task, put yourself into it, as done for the Lord and not for your masters, since you know that from the Lord you will receive the inheritance as your reward; you serve the Lord Christ. Colossians 3:23-24.

It’s good to be home, back in my garden, back with my friends. May you sense the presence of God in the simple tasks you face today and live your life to His glory.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Prodigy

I slip on my garden shoes and head out the back door. The sun peeks over the tree line and warms my face. Green hedges and green trees greet me everywhere I look. May is a wonderful time to be outside.

I pick a few sugar snaps to savor as I walk along the summer plants. The lighter green leaves of new growth bring a smile to my face. “Look how big you’re getting!” Words of encouragement that every living thing needs.

I wander down the row of tomatoes and stop. A tomato? It’s May!

May is when my summer plants send down roots and establish themselves in the ground. May is when my plants grow tall and spread their branches. This little plant thinks May is a time to produce tomatoes.

I know that having a little green tomato in May does not necessarily mean I will have a red ripe one in June. Sometimes the constrained nature of the seedling container encourages the plant to blossom early. There’s a good chance the plant will redirect its energy to establishing roots and spreading out branches now that it’s in the ground. The plant will reabsorb and redistribute the nutrients needed for the tomato to ripen.

Perhaps this little plant is a prodigy, and it will produce fruit now and for months to come. Perhaps that is in the DNA of cherry tomato plants. I haven’t planted one in years. I stopped because the clusters of tiny tomatoes often ended up on the ground, too easily dropped from their branches. But my grandkids love these little tomatoes, so I am growing them.

What I hope is that the plant is not peaking too early, blooming before it’s established enough to withstand the summer heat. Perhaps it is too eager to display its accomplishments, producing tomatoes and ignoring the deep underground work of establishing roots.

Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they did not have much soil, and they sprang up quickly, since they had no depth of soil. But when the sun rose, they were scorched, and since they had no root, they withered away. Matthew 13:5-6.

Only time will tell if this is a prodigy or an early bloomer.

Maybe this plant will produce tomatoes in June and be spent and exhausted, unable to endure the heat of late summer. Or maybe it will produce tomatoes continuously for months.

I’m too old to be a child prodigy or even an early bloomer. But I am prone to display my thoughts and actions before I have given them a chance to develop roots. Perhaps I need to redirect my resources to reaching deep into the quiet darkness to find the nutrients and moisture hidden there.

All of us Marthas in the world wish we could be a little bit more like Mary, both the one who sat at Jesus’ feet (Luke 10:42) and the one who pondered things in her heart (Luke 2:19).

I hope this little plant is sending down roots, establishing itself firmly so it can withstand the heat of summer.

I hope I am too. And you, as well. So that we may grow tall and healthy and spread out our branches, providing shade and fruit and enough room for birds to nest (Luke 13:18). What a beautiful vision of the family of God, a healthy and growing garden.

Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as a branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me. John 15:4.

As exciting as it is to see a tomato on the vine in May, I pray that this little plant, and all of us, will take the time to establish our roots firmly so we can abide in the vine and produce an abundant harvest.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Rain that Restores

I got spoiled by the daily rains and moderate temperatures and forgot about my sugar snaps. The temperatures rose into the eighties, and I went to the lake for a few days. When I came home, I found my sugar snap plants traumatized by the heat and lack of water.

I do my best, but sometimes I let down those who depend on me.

I now spend time with my sugar snaps every day. I speak soft words of encouragement and sing gentle melodies. I add plant food to the hose nozzle and water them daily. They are recovering. New green growth graces their stems. The browned leaves are returning to health. I think they will recover sufficiently to bear fruit in the future.

In my efforts to restore my sugar snaps, I can’t forget these new plants I added to my garden – tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, basil, and oregano. Or ignore my garlic, fig, and raspberries. Perhaps I have over committed, but these plants are in the ground, and I need to care for them.

I have a soaker hose stretched along most of the garden, but it didn’t extend to the sugar snaps. They rarely last into June due to the heat. Surely, I can water them by hand until then. And yet I didn’t. And I head out of town again in May. Do I need plant-sitters to water and pick my sugar snaps daily?

As I write this, a gentle rain soaks my garden. Clouds promise to keep the temperatures in the seventies. God is tending my garden today. He is tending His wider garden of flowers and trees that are bursting with new life. I am so grateful for His sustaining love.

In past generations he allowed all the nations to follow their own ways; yet he has not left himself without a witness in doing good – giving you rains from heaven and fruitful seasons, and filling you with food and your hearts with joy. Acts 14:16-17.

As much as I care for my garden and extend extra care to my sugar snaps, God cares even more for us and our growth. Sometimes we are traumatized by the actions of others. Sometimes we feel ourselves wither under adverse conditions. Sometimes we are burdened by the guilt of our own actions or failure to act. Sometimes, I find it hard to grow.

I trust that God will send his gentle rains and the clouds that hide the sun’s harsh glare. And when the time is right, He will clear the skies and warm the earth and I will reach for those bright rays of sunlight.

I think my sugar snaps will be all right. I will devise a way to extend the soaker hose to include them while I am away. I have friends and family who can harvest peas and tend to the plants. I have confessed my inattentiveness and been forgiven. I am working to repair the damage done. This gentle rain reminds me that God is working to repair the damage as well, out of love for all He created.

For thus says the Lord God, the Holy One of Isreal: In returning and rest, you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength… He will give rain for the seed with which you sow the ground, and grain, the produce of the ground, which will be rich and plenteous. On that day your cattle shall graze in broad pastures. Isaiah 30:15,23.

When the rain stops, I’ll head to the garden and talk with my growing plants. Nourished by gentle rain and encouraged by moderate temperatures, I hope that they will encourage me in return. God is so good and so faithful, sending the rain on the righteous and the unrighteous (Matt. 5:45). May you and I both be restored by soft rain and gentle melodies.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Seedlings

I slip into my garden shoes and cross the wet grass to my newly planted garden. A cool breeze causes me to shiver, and I wrap my hands around my warm coffee mug. It’s still April. It’s still Spring. It may be warm enough to put the plants in the ground and spend the afternoons outside, but the mornings are still chilly.

By the time I’ve walked the garden, pulled weeds, and taken pictures, only my toes still feel the chill.

The rain yesterday morning made the garden easy to plant yesterday afternoon. This morning, the ground is still damp. Hopefully, the abundant water and the soft soil will enable the seedlings to establish their roots quickly.

Although I can’t see it, I envision the roots once so tightly packed in their containers stretching out in freedom, thrilled by the space to explore and claim.

Out of my distress, I called on the Lord; the Lord answered me and set me in a broad place. Psalm 118:5

There were hundreds of plants to choose from at the garden center. What made me pick these? They seemed too big for their containers. They had proven themselves able to grow and now needed more space to achieve new heights.

Does God do this with us?

I don’t think the seedlings at the garden center were in distress. In fact, the garden center tries to keep them as healthy and happy as possible. Even so, there were reps there from a plant company pulling their dead and dying seedlings off the shelves.

If the seedlings aren’t taken and replanted in a garden somewhere, they will never become the plants they can be. Almost makes me want to buy all of them, but of course that is not possible. Perhaps I can encourage you to buy a few?

So, I picked the seedlings that seemed most ready to leave their container cups and transplanted them into my broad and soggy yard. Here, they can spread their roots deeper and their branches higher. Here, they can bear fruit.

Those containers the seedlings were in helped protect them when they were young. The small space gave the seed a safe place to transform, and the vital nutrients needed to do so. That cozy container allowed the plant to be kept in a safe, warm environment, protected from storms and predators. But now that the plant is established, it needs garden space to grow.

Perhaps I have containers around my life, containers that once protected me but now constrain my growth. Perhaps I have separated myself from others or sheltered myself from storms. Perhaps I have put a container around God – who He can love, what He can do, how He might show up. Maybe to grow and bear fruit, I need to shed those containers and spread out into the wider world around me.

I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert. Isaiah 43:19.

It’s a wide world out there, and my garden is only a miniscule spot in it. But it is bigger than the container from the garden center. I hope my plants thrive in the space provided. I pray they take advantage of the chance to spread their roots and extend their reach. Perhaps God is giving you and me that opportunity as well, an opportunity to spread our roots and extend our reach.

Blessed are those who trust in the Lord, whose trust is the Lord. They shall be like a tree planted by water, sending its roots by the stream. It shall not fear when heat comes, and its leaves shall stay green; in the year of drought it is not anxious, and it does not cease to bear fruit. Jeremiah 16:7-8.

Christ is Risen. God has done a new thing, and with God, nothing is impossible. The world beyond our containers may look scary, but trust in the Lord. Great growth awaits us.

Love in Christ, Betsy

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