Tag: hope

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

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

Nothing Remains The Same

Old age and high temperatures have taken their toll on my sugar snaps. I waited to plant some of my seeds until mid-March, so I might have sugar snaps in June, but it is too warm for them now. Their time has passed. Now, all my attention needs to go to the rest of my garden.

My tomato plants are sporting yellow flowers, promising red fruit in the future. Tiny green orbs are dotting my pepper plants. The cucumbers are claiming the space provided. My garden is growing. Even the fig and raspberry bushes are gaining height and sprouting new leaves, perfumed by the basil nearby.

Whenever I hear something that begins with “If things stay this way,” the gardener in me laughs. Things never stay the same. Nothing ever stays the way it is. God created His universe to be in a constant state of change. Even things that seem permanent to us like mountains and oceans are constantly changing incrementally. We know this. We have known this since childhood. And yet we still strive for permanence.

We strive to make things perfect in some delusion that they might stay that way. We build homes and offices to withstand storms, but we know they are not truly permanent. Ruins from civilizations long gone remind us that structures may outlast their inhabitants, but they will not remain the same.

The grass withers, the flower fades; but the word of our God will stand forever. Isaiah 40:8.

We long for that permanence like we long for the tree that produces fruit year-round. Because God has planted that image in our soul, an image of lasting permanence, an image of eternity, an image of Himself.

And He reminds me that I cannot achieve this by my own efforts on this earth. He reminds me of this every day as I walk along the garden and see how it has changed since yesterday.

There is a time for everything. It was true when Solomon said it, and it is true today.

I am not going to fret over the loss of my sugar snaps. They had a glorious season, but it is time for other fruits to shine. I will pull a garlic bulb soon to see how they are doing. Little green tomatoes will ripen into red ones. The cucumbers will continue to indulge their appetite for space.

And while I wait for all these changes, I will water and tend my garden daily. I will treasure this garden for bringing me outside every day. I may even pull the weeds that create a border around my growing plants.

These plants remind me that change is not always a bad thing. I do not want my garden to stay as it is right now, as beautiful as it is to me. I want my plants to age and bear fruit, even if it signals their impending death. That is these plants’ purpose.

I don’t want to stay the same forever either. I want to grow and mature and bear fruit, even as I know I am moving ever closer to my demise. I may live thirty more years; I may die today. God cares for me no matter my life span. He loves me and has put me here for a purpose. He loves you and has put you here for a purpose.

For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God – not the result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are what he has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God has prepared before hand to be our way of life. Ephesians 2:8-10.

And that word of God does remain the same, remains as true today as it was when it was written.

O give thanks to the God of heaven, for his steadfast love endures forever. Psalm 136:26.

Betsy

God’s Gifts

The sun shines brightly over the tree line in the cloudless sky. A gentle breeze keeps the temperature pleasant. Water ripples in the creek but I cannot hear it above the buzz of the cicadas in the hedges. Only the chorus of birdsong rises louder than the constant hum.

I slip on my garden shoes and head to the garden. The clover that passes for grass in my yard is still damp from the overnight dew.

As I draw closer to the sugar snaps, I can see them dangling among the leaves. Short ones, tall ones, skinny ones, fat ones. Beautiful.

Pinching one off the vine, I pull the stringy fiber from their sides, use my fingertips to wipe off any dirt, and pop it in my mouth. Cool to my lips, their sweetness assaults my tongue. A quick crunch and my mouth fills with its nectar. Sweet and crisp and divine. A few satisfying crunches and I reach for another. Food from the gods, well, food from my God.

As I stand there and eat a few more, I am overwhelmed by the bounty. No need to grab the hose, no need to cut or train or pull or labor at all. Just stand here and let these gifts nourish me.

I wonder if this is how God intended the world to be. I wonder if this is how the world was before we mucked it up. Just delicious abundance at our fingertips.

Out of the ground the Lord God made to grow every tree that is pleasant to the sight and good for food, the tree of life also in the midst of the garden, and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Genesis 2:9.

One of the many evils of war is starvation, not just hunger, starvation. Something almost unheard of in peaceful, affluent America, where obesity, diabetes, and heart disease seem to be the problem.

What a gift it would be if I could transport these sugar snap plants, if they could grow where the bombs drop, and the bullets fly. If only they would grow in the decimated cities where people scramble and hide and starve.

For there shall be a sowing of peace; the vine shall yield its fruit, the ground shall give its produce, and the skies shall give their dew; and I will cause the remnant of this people to possess all these things. Zechariah 8:12.

After a few sugar snaps, I am satisfied. I pick the rest of the ripe ones before they get too big and sour and put them in my pocket. I can share them with my family and friends. They are not starving, but they may need a smile, a laugh, a hug, or an outstretched hand. My outstretched hand will offer sugar snaps, God’s gift to me which I will share with you.

You may not have sugar snaps growing in your yard, but God has given you a gift to share as well. You may have trouble finding a smile today. Some days are like that. But you can stretch out your hand to someone and offer what you do have – a listening ear, a quiet presence, a loving heart.

Take a moment today to revel in the sun shining in the sky, the breeze cooling the air, the birdsong overpowering the cicada buzz. God continues to gift us with such treasures, everything that is pleasant to the sight and good for food. Even when we muck it up, even while there is evil in the world, God continues to provide us with good and beautiful things.

Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Philippians 4.8.

Betsy

This little Seed

Seeds so tiny they look like dirt in my hand. My aging eyes can barely separate them from each other. The package says these could generate 150 3-foot plants. Hmm. My cynical side finds that difficult to believe.

I am trying something new this year. The flower that these seeds grow supposedly repels chipmunks, squirrels and deer. I plan to plant them among the tomatoes in late April. We shall see.

Why do I tamp down my expectations like this? Has God not shown us over thousands of years that He will turn these tiny specks into plants? Has He not shown others just how big the plants these seeds contain can become? I have instructions, directions, testimonies from others; why do I doubt? One thing is for sure: If I don’t plant them, they will remain only seeds.

To look at these little black specks and see a 3-foot plant with white petals and a red center; is that not faith?

Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. Hebrews 11:1

Every tree in my yard started as a seed. Every tree in your yard started as a seed. A seed which looked absolutely nothing like the tree it became. A forest is like a testimony to God’s ability to transform something seemingly dead into something vibrantly alive.

These miniscule seeds in the palm of my hand hold the promise of transforming my garden. Amazing, really. And so common. You can find these packets of hope in every hardware store and garden center in the world. I bought mine from a catalogue with about 1000 varieties of seeds promising an unimaginable harvest.

It’s exciting. These little seeds, these embodiments of hope, energize me at some deep level.

And there’s the sweet pea seeds. I plant them directly into the garden. These seeds look like dried up sweet peas. I’m pretty sure that’s what they are. Fruit from last year’s garden that now appears dead, dried up, lifeless, worthless. But looks can be deceiving.

That dead looking, dried up sweetpea is precious to me. That seed holds the promise of delicious fruit. It doesn’t always work out that way, but while you may see a dried up seed, I see possibility.

The Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart. I Samuel 16:7b

I have felt like these seeds; tiny, insignificant, useless, past my prime. My cynical nature doubts there is much that can come from me; my fears and doubts tamp down my expectations. But I must fight these fears.

God creates form from nothing (Gen. 1), brings dead bones to life (Ezek. 37), plants an imperishable seed within us (I Peter 1), and promises resurrection (I Cor. 15). Surely He can transform me into a beautiful flower and a fruit bearing garden.

So I plant these seeds. I water them, tend to them, protect them, and support them. I trust God will transform them. He has been faithful in the past, transforming millions of seeds into flowers, plants, and trees. I have faith that He can and will transform these seeds, and me, as well.

Beloved, we are God’s children now; what we will be has not yet been revealed. What we do know is this: when he is revealed, we will be like him, for we will see him as he is. I John 3:2

What hope these little seeds carry!

What a blessing that God gave us this every-day, common reminder of His transformative powers. How can I doubt when all around me God is proving His amazing power and gracious love?

It may look like a little seed, but it is so much more.

He said therefore, “What is the kingdom of God like? And to what shall I compare it? It is like a mustard seed that someone took and sowed in the garden; it grew and became a tree, and the birds of the air made nests in its branches. Luke 13:18-19

Betsy

Seeds and Sugar Snaps

I look at the packet of seeds and think, “Are you kidding me?” There is no way that these dry little things can bear the yummy looking peas on the cover. If I didn’t have thousands of years of testimony telling me that a plant would grow, I would never believe it. If I didn’t have first-hand experience to the contrary, my cynicism and doubt would keep me from ever planting a seed.

“Don’t be silly, Betsy,” you may say. “There is overwhelming evidence to back up the claims of Ferry-Morse and Burpee.” And yet, so many of the seeds I bury in the ground don’t become sugar snap plants, and some that do become plants never bear fruit. This is universally true of seeds. If not, oak trees and strawberries and pumpkins would cover the earth.

And yet, the only way I will ever get even one sugar snap plant in my backyard is to plant a seed, a seed from this packet which promises so much. That, my friend, is faith.

Cool weather crops, like sugar snaps and lettuces, give me a test run for this faith. I’ll just drop these in to a small portion of my garden space and see if it works; see if Ferry-Morse is giving reliable testimony. I can do this in February or early March, before I have to commit to all that growing tomatoes and cucumbers entail. Those with a greater faith than I can start such summer plants from seeds in their own hothouses. I am going to do a test sample with the sugar snaps in my backyard.

These seed packets excite me somehow. Perhaps because I got off the couch and took my first baby step towards a garden? Perhaps because the seeds herald warmer weather? Perhaps the little step of faith I took buying the seeds creates its own joy; acting in faith often does.

It is as if God gave us seeds so that we could understand what He is doing in our lives and in the world.

And God gave us A LOT of seeds. And it takes A LOT of seeds to get a garden full of sugar snaps. As discouraging as it can be, most seeds do not become fruit-bearing plants. But instead of focusing on the negative aspect of this truth, I choose to focus on the lesson – that I have to sow a lot of seeds to get a healthy sugar snap crop.

Now this I say, He who sows sparingly shall also reap sparingly, and he who sows bountifully shall also reap bountifully.  2 Cor. 9:6

Jesus, in the parable of the sower (Luke 8:5-8), uses this seed metaphor beautifully. There is so much that I can say about seeds! Looking at this seed packet, however, I am in awe of the indulgent generosity of God. In the parable, surely the sower knew that many of those seeds wouldn’t take, but He sowed them anyway. Should I be following His inefficient ways? Is He calling me to not prejudge who is “fertile ground,” but sow His Word everywhere? Or, as Jesus put it, “if (we) greet only our brothers and sisters, what more are (we) doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same?” (Matt. 5:47)

And when I am buying those seed packets, I have to be careful to get the correct seeds. Because the seeds I plant determine the plants I grow. There is a wonderful scene in Second Hand Lions in which they have bought a variety of seed packets labeled incorrectly as okra, cucumber, squash, tomatoes, etc., but they all come up as corn because all the seeds were corn. Truth in advertising laws may prevent Burpee from doing this, but culturally, I think this still happens pretty often. I mustn’t kid myself; if I fill my brain with the seeds of pornography and violence, it is unlikely that I will produce fidelity and gentleness.

Finally, a seed is a beautiful microcosm of the interconnectedness of life. A seed is the beginning of a plant, but it is also the culmination of a plant. And it is so tiny! And it can turn into something so big! But it has to be sown before it can grow. So, whether I am sowing seeds, producing seeds, growing from a seed, or if I am the seed itself, I am part of a greater story which precedes me and will continue after I am gone. I just need to do my part to keep the story going.

“The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that someone took and sowed in his field. It is the smallest of all the seeds, but when it has grown, it is the greatest of shrubs. Matt 13:31-32 (also Luke 13:18-19)

It is faith that enables me to believe that God can turn the dry little thing in this seed packet into delicious sugar snaps. It is faith that enables me to believe that God can turn even the tiniest, least likely to succeed, unpromising, dry little thing in my life into fruit that brings joy and sustenance to others.

Because I have overwhelming evidence, thousands of years of testimony, and first-hand experience that tell me that if I overcome my cynicism, doubt and inertia and plant a seed, God will make something beautiful grow. Just as iI have overwhelming evidence, thousands of years of testimony, and first-hand experience that tell me that if I act in faith, God will make something beautiful grow in my life.

Betsy

Thank you for taking the time to read this! If you liked it, please let me know, subscribe or follow my blog and share it with others. I welcome your comments and feedback. WordPress will automatically notify subscribers and followers when I have a new post. Thanks!

For the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart. I Samuel 16:7