Tag: hope

Gray and Chilly

In the warm weather that brightened our spirits last week, my sugar snaps pushed through the soil and rejoiced with me. But Sunday, I covered them with the protective gauze that keeps them warm and lets in sunlight. A forty degree drop in temperatures would challenge these young plants. I would do what I could to lessen the shock.

This is what March is all about in Tennessee. 75 degrees one day, 35 degrees the next. I would like to say that such weather changes don’t affect me. Unlike my sugar snaps, I live in a climate-controlled space with many resources to protect me from the wintery weather. But the truth is this gray and chilly day has me feeling, well, gray and chilly.

Intellectually I know that such feelings can only affect me if I let them. I am not a sugar snap plant blown by the wind and left to the elements. In my core, I am a child of God, beloved and adopted, chosen to live in a royal priesthood. But today, I am a whiney old widow whose joints hurt.

Usually, when I am feeling gray like this, I wander outside and listen to the creek and the birds. I feel the wind and the sun on my face and stick my hands in the dark, wet soil. But it’s 35 degrees outside and I want to stay inside.

Because I lost three trees to the ice storm in January, I decided to plant two new ones. Not hackberries like the ones I lost, but fig trees. I have a dwarf fig in my garden, but I am planting the not-dwarf kind of fig tree in my yard. They arrived Saturday when it was warm. The temptation was to plant them right away, but I am observing Saturday sabbath for Lent, so I let them sit inside.

Today, I am grateful that these young plants are not exposed to the chilly weather yet. I sense a little providence in their protection. And today, their healthy green leaves and promises of future beauty, shade, and fruit are lifting my spirits.

Even when it is gray and chilly, even when my emotions urge me to curl up on the couch, a young plant reminds me of what opportunities lie ahead – opportunities for warmth, for growth, for bearing fruit. No matter my mood, God gives me the opportunity to care for others, to exhibit joy and love, and to bear fruit for His Kingdom.

It may not look like much right now, but these sugar snaps will grow tall and these small fig plants will become trees. The chill will pass; the sun will burst through the clouds and warm the ground. A little providence and faith will see me through the gray days into His light.

And not only that but we can also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us. Romans 5:3-5.

Warmer days are ahead.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Oops!

The garlic is up! I have already cut the scapes once, but I will cut them a few more times before I let them grow unbothered.

The thick green leaves encourage me that there are hearty bulbs below the surface. This especially encourages me because my garlic crop was a failure last year. Not one sprouted. I didn’t want to write about it because who wants to broadcast their failure? Besides, I wasn’t sure what the problem was.

Was there too much water? Had the cardboard poisoned the soil? Had some underground critter eaten them? The options for blame were plentiful.

My previous year’s crop had been successful. When last year’s bulbs came in, I planted them just as I remembered planting them the year before, being careful to always plant the bulbs point down as I remembered doing it the year before. Spacing them out, covering them with dirt, and watering frugally.

That’s the problem with memory. This year, I read the instructions again and watched the video on garlic planting. Perhaps I had done something wrong. Indeed. Garlic bulbs are always to be planted point up. And I had so carefully planted them point down. Poor bulbs! Breaking from their shells to find only darkness and dirt instead of the sunlight they craved.

Do not be wise in your own eyes: fear the Lord and turn away from evil. Proverbs 3:7.

Less than a minute looking at the video with all the bulbs point up and I saw the error in my ways. I had trusted in myself, been wise in my own eyes. I wonder where else this is happening.

How often am I confident that I know what to do, and how often is that in error? Sometimes the results are not as clear cut as no garlic harvest. Like the Pharisees and Sadducees and scribes, I love to study scripture and contemplate theology. But their confidence in their own wisdom made them unable to imagine that God was doing something wonderful in their midst. Jesus broke the Sabbath laws. Jesus touched lepers, ate with sinners, talked to Samaritans. They knew this was wrong.

Is it possible that in my self confidence I have “misremembered” what the scriptures teach? Secure in my understanding, have I judged as right something that is wrong, or judged as wrong something God is using to further His kingdom? Have I been confident in planting my bulbs upside down and then been surprised they didn’t grow?

There is hope. I returned to the basic instructions, those instructions I thought I knew but didn’t. I looked at the picture and could see where I was wrong. Prayer, Spirit-led Bible study, conversations with those whose gardens are full of fruit, all of these can enlighten me to the error of my thinking. And I need to be humble enough to admit I was wrong, brave enough to admit my failure.

Because when the life I am living isn’t producing a harvest of the Spirit’s fruit, I need to examine what the problem is. It may be as simple as pointing the bulbs in the right direction – toward the sun, toward the Son.

Jesus said to them (the Sadducees), “Is this not the reason you are wrong, that you know neither the scriptures nor the power of God?” Mark 12:24

Love in Christ, Betsy

Seeds and Hope

The sun warms my face and arms and a trickle of sweat runs down my face. Sweat! In the cold of a few short weeks ago, planting sugar snap seeds felt like a dream, a wishful hope, a potential impossibility. But here I am. It’s March and I am plating sugar snap seeds and sweating.

I pulled up the tarps which have, hopefully, killed all the emerging weeds. I have made my furrows and covered the dried pods with nutrient rich soil. The ground is damp and rain is in the forecast, so I won’t water today, but I have tested the hose and sprayer in anticipation.

The weather on the first of March was very similar to the weather on the last day of February, but the emotions were far different. March means gardening, getting outdoors, warmer weather, flowering trees, and greening grass. This March I will plant two new fig trees in my yard. Not the dwarf, patio fig I have in my garden but real trees. This March I will host an Easter Egg hunt for a branch of my large family, and my yard needs to be ready. This March, I will add beets to my garden for the first time.

God willing.

Because we don’t really know, do we? I have all these plans, and I will work diligently to put them in place, but who really knows except God? As much as March means warmer weather to me, it can also mean tornados and freak snowstorms. The irises are up and the garlic bulbs are sprouting, the sun is shining and the birds are chirping. Winter is changing into Spring, but we are not there yet.

All of these died in faith without having received the promises, but from a distance they saw and greeted them. They confessed that they were strangers and foreigners on the earth, for people who speak in this way make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore, God is not ashamed to be called their God; indeed, he has prepared a city for them. Hebrews 11:13-16.

Am I looking forward to a homeland with Christ as much as I am looking forward to warm weather and tasty sugar snaps? I have faith that His new world will be considerably better than the one I live in now. But the one I live in now can be lovely. Full of people I love and beautiful sunrises and fruit bearing trees.

Have I made plans, prepared myself for that family reunion? Have I planted seeds that will bear fruit there?

My time on this earth is limited. My death may not be imminent, but it is inevitable. 100% probability. I plant. I plan. I hope to make memories and connections and reach out beyond myself. I plant trees even if I may never see them grown. Someone else can harvest their fruit if I am unable. I am just a traveler here, a visitor.

The land shall not be sold in perpetuity, for the land is mine (the Lord’s); with me you are but aliens and tenants. Leviticus 25:23.

I am so grateful for the opportunity to live here, to plant these seeds, to feel the sun on my face and the sweat on my brow. What hope March holds. What hope faith provides. This day is wonderful, a gift. And that future, that future heavenly country? That will be even better.

I drop the seeds into the soil and lift my face to the sun.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Pruning

Most of the fallen limbs are gone and only one downed tree remains to dismantle, a task for those with chainsaws. Now I need to tend to my house plants.

While most survived the four frigid days without heat, one of them suffered considerable damage. It lived closer to the window, closer to the cold. As a side note, the Christmas Cactus seemed to love the cooler temps!

I am grateful that I did not attend this plant immediately when it was all dead and brown. I thought I would have to dispose of it. But in the weeks since power was restored, new green leaves have appeared. A white blossom has even presented itself. “I’m not dead yet!”

So, I got out my scissors and pruned off all the dead leaves and brittle stems. What is left is small but healthy.

It seems an apt practice for Lent. That is what we are called to do in our lives. Cut away all the dead waste, the useless pursuits, the brittle branches. Leave the healthy, holy part of lives to grow unfettered by dead-end activities.

Let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race set before us. Hebrews 12:1b.

And now that the dead leaves are gone, the healthy green leaves shine. They are what I see when I look at my plant. Not brown, wilted leaves and brittle stems, but healthy, vibrant growth. Isn’t that what we what others to see in us? Not our decaying, worthless activity, but the beauty of a healthy and holy life, love, and growth?

It just took getting rid of the other stuff.

The old leaves weren’t “bad.” They had brought beauty to my home for years. But things had changed and they were no longer the source of joy they had once been. In a sense, they were reminders of what once had been but was not now.

Am I cluttering my life with reminders of what once was? Not just my home, but my mind? I am slow to give up those things that were once precious to the people who were precious to me. Not that I care about Royal Dalton figurines, but my mother did. Not that I love antlers and deer heads, but Nick did. And those toys my children loved? I still have them.

I think it is okay for mementos from the past to occupy some physical space. But my mental space needs to be filled with God and His desires for today, not cluttered with joys and regrets from the past. I need to prune back the brown and brittle leaves and let the healthy new growth shine.

It may not look like much. At least right now. But God has taught me that when I strip away all the excess, dead stuff, the living, vital things grow.

I am the true 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.

And that is what I want to do – bear fruit for God’s kingdom, bear the Holy Spirit’s fruit of love, joy, peace, patience, and Christ-like living. (Galatians 5:22)

I pray that each of us lets God guide us in the pruning of our lives.

Love in Christ, Betsy

A Clean Space

Something has been rooting around in my garden!

They didn’t find much and stopped after two garlic bulbs. They probably didn’t like the taste. Either way, I laid grating on top of the tiny scapes that I hope will prevent further damage.

My guess is that the ground has been so cluttered with limbs and crisscrossed by humans removing those limbs that the critter felt hopeful in the clear and protected space of the garden. Imagine his or her surprise to find a garlic bulb hidden there instead of a tasty acorn.

Today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent. This is the season when we are encouraged to de-clutter our lives of those things that obscure or disrupt our relationship with God. Like the fallen or cut limbs across my yard, our habits and obsessions can hinder our walk of faith and obscure the truths God has buried in His Word and in our lives.

We need a space that is clear of that clutter. We need a protected space where the buried treasures He gives us can flourish. But that same clear space attracts forces that would steal those treasures.

When it (the unclean spirit) comes, it finds it empty, swept, and put in order. Then it goes and brings along seven other spirits more evil than itself, and they enter and live there; and the last state of the person is worse than the first. Matthew 12:44-45.

Lent is usually considered a time to give something up, to practice self-discipline, to train ourselves to resist temptation. But Lent is more than a time to sweep out our distractions and put our lives in order. We need to protect ourselves from unclean spirits who covet our space, who are looking for empty spaces to ravage. We need to call on the Holy Spirit to fill us, to strengthen us, to guide us.

He was in the wilderness forty days, temped by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him. Mark 1:12.

My hope is that prayer and worship will work as a barrier against unclean spirits which may be attracted to me. My prayer is that God will watch over me and protect me as the angels watched over Jesus. I don’t want my space clean and empty, but clean and full of His Holy Spirit.

It is the Holy Spirit who gives us the strength to resist temptation. It is His presence which keeps the wild beasts at bay. It is Jesus who loves us in our weakness and failure as we build those muscles of perseverance and discipline. Without Him, we are inviting all the unclean spirits to enter.

My sugar snap seeds have arrived. The weather is getting warmer. The days are getting longer. Soon, I will plant seeds into the empty soil and watch for their growth. Soon the songs of the birds and the music of the creek will no longer be overshadowed by the buzz of chainsaws. I am eager for winter to be over and spring to arrive. I am eager for Easter.

But for now, I need to keep my garden clear and protected. I need to use this time of Lent to learn to trust God for all that I need and put Him first in all things. I need to put my house in order and fill it with love.

And if something, or someone, does sneak in and begin rooting around, I hope they are surprised to find peace and love hidden there and not hidden anger or resentment.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Faithfulness

As unlikely as I find it, this marks the completion of four years of weekly posts. Some of you have been reading along with me the entire time and I cannot thank you enough. Most of you are newer readers and your presence is a remarkable surprise and blessing.

I started this practice to improve my writing skills and discipline myself to write regularly. I had wanted to write a Bible study on gardening. Biblical writers, the prophets, and Jesus use the garden often as a metaphor for the kingdom of heaven, Israel, and our belief. From Genesis through Revelation, the garden is used to illustrate our relationship with God. We are either a beautiful garden or a wasteland; we bear fruit or we bear thorns and thistles.

But what writing this blog has taught me, much like what the garden itself has taught me, is faithfulness and self-discipline. Even when I don’t feel like it, I need to write a weekly post. Even when I don’t feel like it, I need to water and tend the garden. Even when it is difficult, I need to prepare the garden, and I need to prepare my heart.

Not because it’s critical to life that I write or plant, but because God has led me to pursue these things. He has given me the space and the time, the desire and the ability, and He has given me joy in pursuing them.

There was a time after Nick died that I thought I would never find joy again. How could I be happy when the man who made me laugh was gone?

Last month, I finally scattered the last of Nick’s ashes into the Gulf he loved so much. It was bittersweet and perhaps overdue. My children and their spouses gathered around me as we took turns saying goodbye once again. The grandchildren Nick would never know played in the sand nearby and came to join in the hugs we shared.

I packed up my beach gear and headed home to the aftermath of an epic ice storm. Life goes on. It always does. Until the day God calls us home, we are asked to persevere, to pursue the interests God has given us, to use the gifts and resources He has provided. Even when we don’t feel like it. Even when It’s difficult.

May those who sow in tears reap with shouts of joy. Those who go out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, carrying their sheaves. Psalm 126:5-6.

There have been weeks when the only thing making me press on is the conviction that someone out there would notice my absence and miss me. Your presence has helped me maintain my faithfulness. Thank you!

I look forward to my fifth year writing this blog. I look forward to what God will teach me and the words He will give me. I look forward to planting sugar snaps and, when it is warmer, tomatoes. I look forward to the joyful times God is preparing for me.

He is preparing them for you as well. Hang in there. Your faithfulness will be rewarded.

Do not be deceived; God is not mocked, for you reap whatever you sow. So let us not grow weary in doing what is right, for we will reap at harvest time, if we do not give up. So then, whenever we have an opportunity, let us work for the good of all, and especially for those of the family of faith. Ephesians 6:7, 9-10.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Winter Hope

Snow covers my yard and falls gently on the tree toppled by last week’s ice storm. Temperatures will stay in the teens today, and I will stay indoors, my body slow to adjust after spending time in Florida.

I can appreciate the beauty of the snow because I know it won’t always be here. I plan to buy sugar snaps seeds today. I plan to plant them in about a month, Lord willing. I need to plant them before mid-March so the vines will bear fruit in May, before it gets too hot for them. As the thermostat hovers around fifteen, it seems odd to be planning for hot weather. But I know this cold will not last, so I prepare for heat.

This feels like faith to me – acting today in preparation for something that is not yet evident in the world.

Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. Indeed, by faith, our ancestors received approval. Hebrews 1:1-2.

But it is faith tempered by history. While it is possible that this will be an endless winter, I have ample historical data to suggest that spring and summer will soon follow. I guess I could not believe that. I could be like the Israelites who forgot their rescue from Egypt. I could consider the calming of the sea and the feeding of the five thousand one-offs that would never occur again. But I have ample evidence in my own life of God’s sovereignty and God’s providence, perhaps not quite as dramatic, but evident, nonetheless.

This is not to say that we are to sit back and make God do all the work. We still needed to cross between the waves, pass out the bread, and paddle the boat. I still need to buy the seeds and plant them. But I operate in the faith that God will protect, God will provide, and summer will come.

If you are still without power in the greater Nashville area, you may be questioning this faith this morning. Trees still litter most yards and many streets. Once more, our calendars were wiped clean by forces outside our control. And while I was in Florida and of no help to anyone, I was amazed at the kindness and generosity and connection displayed by those of you who were here. You opened your home to friends, their families, and pets. Those who had shared graciously with those who had not (in this case, electricity). Some of you are still helping those in need. This is love in action, the kingdom of God at heaven, and His will being done. It may be disruptive, but it is beautiful.

Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God. Hebrews 13:16.

So, thank you, every one of you who reached out to a friend or neighbor to check on them, who offered your home or a meal. If you are still displaced, hang in there. Let me know if there is anything I can do to help.

And remember, warm weather is coming.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Planting Garlic

I planted my garlic this past weekend. It’s got me thinking about the seeds we plant in the “off season,” when all the focus is elsewhere.

December is a time when I am consumed with gatherings – family, friends, every group of which I am a part gathers this time of year. Ostensibly to celebrate the birth of Jesus the Christ, but usually just for the opportunity to dress up and gather, eat, drink, and perhaps exchange gifts. It’s a time to celebrate here and now, our family and friends. Anything beyond the here and now tends to focus on the past, childhood memories, family traditions.

The church calls this time Advent, the coming, and encourages us to look forward. We are asked to prepare ourselves in anticipation of the wonders God is about to perform. He planted a seed, the unformed nucleus of God enfolded into a perishable body, which grew into a man and lived among us for thirty-some years. He gave us a small child who changed the world, whose Spirit continues to change the world.

The word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory of the father’s only son, full of grace and truth. John 1:14

This is the week when I put away the pumpkins and fall colors and bring out the red and green. (I know, some of you are far ahead of me on this task.) And, in the middle of this, I planted garlic bulbs that I won’t dig up until summer.

Garlic cloves need to be planted after the first frost and before the ground is frozen solid. Like many bulbs, they need to spend a season underground in the cold, storing up nutrients and preparing themselves to grow. Unlike my sugar snaps and tomatoes, I need to plant garlic long before its growing season. I plant in the cold looking forward to the hot sun and lazy days of summer.

God planted a seed in my heart as well when I was cold-hearted and consumed with my immediate needs and wants. That seed took a long time to bear fruit in me. Now I think of the seeds that I have planted, that I am planting in my own life and in the lives of those around me. It may seem pointless, burying a seed in the cold and dark and trusting that God will transform it into fruit for His kingdom. But that is how seeds work.

Amid all our celebrating and gathering and living our lives, we can take a moment to plant a seed, a seed of love, a seed of kindness, a seed of connection. We can trust that God can transform that seed into a relationship with Him, even if we never see it or know of it.

This is Advent, the coming of Christ into the world. Not only as a one-time event two thousand years ago, but also as a daily event here and now. Christ comes to live with us, within us, within those around us. Perhaps all that is needed to sense His presence in the world is for us to take a moment and plant a seed.

You have been born anew, not of perishable but of imperishable seed, through the living and enduring word of God. 1 Peter 1:23.

I hope to plant more than garlic this Advent season. I hope to plant love. I hope God uses me to answer someone’s prayer. I pray that another will see how much God loves them through my words and actions.

Gather in celebration this Advent. Gather in love and plant some seeds.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Salt

I’ve been thinking a lot about salt recently. A friend of mine has a dozen different colors and flavors of salt. I have Morton’s. We both use salt on a regular basis. I bet you do too. Salt is in everything, as those of who have had to limit its intake can attest.

Salt makes food taste better. It’s just a rock, a crystallized mineral. It takes no action on its own. It didn’t rise out the ground eight thousand years ago and tell the ancient Balkans, Bulgarians, and Chinese that it could change their lives. They found this mineral in springs and rocks. They experimented with it, tasted it, and rubbed it on the most recent animal kill. They let it dissolve in water and soaked their aging vegetables in it.

What an amazing and life changing gift from the earth, from God. And it is just there for our use. Sometimes just sitting in rocks beside streams for animals to lick on their way past. Sure, we humans have mined it, processed it, commercialized it, and fought over it. But that is because salt is vital and necessary to our survival.

Salt not only makes things taste better. It is an essential element, a necessary electrolyte to keep us healthy and functioning. Salt is used in brining and pickling and smoking and canning, allowing for the safe preservation of our food. We gargle salt to heal our mouth sores and soak in it to heal our wounds. Salt is also used in chemical processes, water treatment, land stabilization, and de-icing.

You are the salt of the earth. Matthew 5:13.

Can our mere presence make this much of a difference to the world around us? Can we, by simply being available, add flavor to other’s lives, preserve their dignity, enhance their lives, and cure their ailments? Are we an essential element in each other’s lives?

Salt can also corrode, destroy, and kill. It has long been used to eradicate weeds. Conquering armies would salt grain fields to prevent growth. I’ve heard it’s deadly to slugs. The salty breeze from the ocean destroys a/c units, corrodes paint, and rusts the chairs. Road salt eats away your car’s paint and makes the metal rust. Too much salt in your diet causes hypertension and can be fatal. Ingesting salt water can lead to hallucinations and death.

So, is salt a preserver or a killer? Does it enhance life or corrode it? As eager as we are to classify things as ‘good’ or ‘bad,’ salt is just salt. It is not making any moral choices or grappling with complexities. We slap those attributes on it based on what it feels like to us in the moment.

Some people struggle to say that God is good. How could such a loving God do such and so? He gives us life. He flavors it and enhances it and preserves it. At times He seems to destroy it. I can’t see the world as He sees it. I don’t think I even want to. God is God. I will not slap my moral judgement on His actions.

Jesus tells we are the salt of the earth and urges us not to lose our saltiness. The thing is that salt never loses its saltiness. It’s what it is. We sense it as “unsalty” when it has been diluted. With too much water, too much starch, salt can be absorbed by its environment. But it is still salt.

We are here to flavor and enhance and cure. We may be called upon to destroy – false gods, heretical beliefs, sin in our lives. We, His children, are salt. He sends us out into the world to be – salt.

You shall not omit from your grain offering the salt of the covenant with your God; with all your offerings you shall offer salt. Leviticus 2:13.

You are the salt, my friend. Not because you have made yourself salt, but because God made you salt.

Love in Christ, Betsy

A garden at Rest

I take my coffee and step outside, inhaling the cool morning air. Geese honk as they fly in formation against a cloudless blue sky. The grass is still green and wet with dew. Warm weather has kept the leaves green, but little pops of color are peeking through. October is a wonderful time to be outside.

I walk my garden, but there is nothing to see, nothing that demands my attention this morning. The basil still grows. I will need to make a batch of pesto before it gets too cold for the plant, but not today. My raspberry and fig still bear fruit, one fig and three or four raspberries a week. Nothing to pick this morning, but their perseverance impresses me.

Soon I will need to pull up the old cardboard and lay a tarp over the ground for the winter. This is a technique one of you suggested as an alternative method of reducing weeds (Thanks LS!), but it won’t happen today.

Today, my garden and I are at rest.

Not all my idleness is restful. Often, I am caught up in books or movies or football games and the hours spent sitting leave me exhausted, or worse, agitated. This is what the people in Jesus’ time were missing about the Sabbath. The rules that kept people idle had generated so much stress that the Sabbath was no longer restful, no longer a day of rest.

Rest comes from the confidence that God has our situation in His hands, and He loves us. It is not always time to plant, to harvest, to work in the garden. Sometimes, it is time to rest.

I can’t speak for you, but rest is hard for me to accept. I want to wrest my situation from God’s hands, take charge, devise a plan, and make it happen. Why put anything off until tomorrow? The world in which I live supports this kind of thinking. We are supposed to be doing something, striving toward a goal, expanding our social group, moving up through the ranks, being all that we can be.

For a few years, when people asked me what I did, I said “Nothing.” You can imagine the reactions I got. I later amended that to say, “I entertain myself well.” Now I say I write, but that always leads to questions about publication and what I am working on and my plans for the future. Perhaps I should say I’m at rest.

Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. Matthew 11:29

This time of rest is good for the garden. Plants take nutrients and water from the soil, and the earth needs time to replenish these. All the little critters and microorganisms in the ground need uninterrupted time to turn dirt into nutrient-rich soil. The garden at rest is not idle; it is resting. Similar to what happens when we sleep, the garden at rest is busy below the surface.

The world can’t see it. I can’t see it. But I know God is in action preparing the garden for the future demands I will make on it. Like sleep prepares us for the next day. Like this time of rest prepares me for what God has in store for me.

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.

Will you join me and my garden and rest today? No stress, no agitation, no wresting your life out of God’s hands. Just rest. Breath in the cool air. Listen to the geese. Admire the cloudless blue sky. Trust God. He created this world, and He loves you.

Love in Christ, Betsy