Tag: love

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

The Spider in my Shower

She’s been there for a week now. She was there the morning after the bug man came to spray the inside and outside of my home, putting up an invisible fence to keep the bugs out. It seems she found herself on the wrong side of the fence and couldn’t get back home.

She’s harmless, a grandaddy long legs. My daughter was bitten by a brown recluse once. Not harmless. But this spider doesn’t even build webs. When I shower, she moves out of the spray and waits for the heat to stop. She could climb back down the drain that I presume brought her to my shower, but she doesn’t.

Perhaps the bright white shower is better than the dark and dirty drain. There is water here. Except for my showers, the space is cool and predator free. Probably food free as well, which could shorten her visit.

I debate moving her outside, but my clumsy fingers would probably harm her if I didn’t cause her to have a heart attack in her weakened state. I don’t wish her harm. I keep my distance, and she keeps hers.

I sure some of you would have killed her by now. Who wants to shower with a spider?!

But she’d gotten me thinking about God and how evil people exist in the world when He could just get rid of them all. I’m content to co-exist with this spider because, unlike the brown recluse, she is not evil. Most likely, the brown recluse is not evil either but tell that to my daughter’s leg!

If I were to kill all spiders because some of them are dangerous, wouldn’t that be analogous to blowing up a workplace because your abusive ex worked there? Or to hating all (fill in the ethnicity) because you had an unpleasant experience with one of them?

And isn’t what we consider evil, at its core, just an exaggerated version of the emotions we all have?

But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgement; and you insult a brother or sister, you will be liable to the council; and if you say, ‘You fool,’ you will be liable to the hell of fire. Matthew 5:22.

So, if I am liable to the hell of fire, which Jesus says I am, God cannot wipe out evil without wiping me out as well. And I don’t think God wants to get rid of ALL spiders. He may not want to get rid of any of them, as difficult as that may be for me to grasp. He sees the world from a much different perspective than I do. He regularly lets evil befall those He loves. Even His own son.

Heavy thoughts for a spider to generate.

The house cleaners are coming tomorrow, and I doubt they will let the spider continue to coexist with me. The cleaning solution would probably do her in if they don’t just kill her. So, her presence in my life is only for a short spell.

I don’t know if she appreciates my tolerance of her. I don’t know if she knows most people see spiders as threats. I don’t know if she thinks of people as threats and is re-evaluating her opinions. I don’t know that spiders have opinions at all, but they do instinctively shy away from the giant beings called people. They do, like the brown recluse, act to protect themselves when they feel threatened, even if the contact is unintended. Maybe, in their minds, we are the evil ones.

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

I’m not sure how much longer this spider will live, but I will not kill her. The shower is big enough for both of us.

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

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

First Fruits

I have sugar snaps! Small green pods emerged from the white blossoms. The pods grew long and fat in the cool, wet weather until finally they are ready for harvest. What a gift!

I walk along the vines, shorter than I would like them to be, and pinch off the larger peas. The peas hide behind the leaves and blend in with the stalks, hiding themselves from my eager hands. These are the first fruits of the sugar snaps, the first fruits of my garden.

I take a bite, sweet and crunchy, and another as I savor the freshness of the peas, and the moisture from the morning dew. I eat a few more before I remember I need to take a picture of my harvest!

That a delicious fruit would emerge from the seed I planted is February is a small miracle, a common one, but miraculous all the same. The plant grew, reached out, drew itself higher. It took nutrients and water from the ground and used the sun’s warmth to transform these elements into a living, growing thing. Flowers appeared from nowhere and produced fruit. Somehow, the knowledge, ability, and desire to do these things was contained in miniscule DNA of the seed I planted. And people say there is no God!

Ask the plants of the earth and they will teach you; and the fish of the sea will declare to you. Who among you does not know that the hand of the Lord has done this? Job 12:8-9.

This has been a chaotic spring for me. I dedicated myself to polishing my first novel, attending writers’ conferences, and submitting my work for review and critique. I have not given my garden the attention it has received in the past, but God has rewarded the effort I did extend to it by producing these incredible peas.

He has rewarded my efforts in other ways as well – speaking engagements, continued book sales, a growing readership, and recognition from the Association of Christian Fiction Writers. It’s been a busy and productive spring for me, and this harvest is the perfect transition to the coming summer.

The temptation is to think that my dedication and my efforts made any of this happen. But I did not make the seed grow. I merely planted the seed and tended the garden. I set aside my desires to binge-watch mindless television and allowed God to produce fruit in my life. And what joy and affirmation that fruit brings!

Will I let Him grow gentleness in me? Patience? He has produced joy when I thought I would never feel it again. He is producing self-discipline, a fruit I never thought I would bear. Did He plant miniscule DNA in me that contained the knowledge, ability, and desire to bear these fruits? Are the in the DNA of the Holy Spirit which He sent to live in me?

And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate to be with you forever. This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him. You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you. John 14:16-17.

The appearance of fruit continues to amaze me. Whether it’s a sugar snap or the word not spoken, God blesses me with fruit. Sometimes, I feel the fruit will never arrive, but it always appears at the perfect time. As if God knows, because He does.

Whether you are waiting to blossom, watching your fruit grow, or enjoying a bountiful harvest, know that God wants to produce delicious fruit through you – fruit that will refresh and nourish the world.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Bad News, Good News

The bad news is that my sugar snaps will not be the tall, thick, over-abundant crop they were last year. Could it be chemicals from the cardboard? Did the cardboard move and suppress some seeds? Did the heat and rainless days, coupled with my inattention, stunt their growth? It could even be the absence of Miracle Gro in their infancy. Most likely, a combination of these factors caused me to have a short and patchy sugar snap crop.

The good news? Look at the blossoms! Each of these dainty white flowers will yield a delicious sugar snap. These short plants are healthy. They are green, and they are flowering. My mouth waters in anticipation of that first sugar snap pod. Sweet and crunchy, damp with the morning dew. Maybe next week…

What a gift that God created blossoms. Vibrant pink, dainty white, or bold shades of yellow, these bursts of color let us know that the plant is alive and thriving. Blossoms bring color to the browns of winter and the greens of summer. They bring proof of life and hope for growth, beauty in the moment and a foreshadowing of future fruit.

From the fig tree learn its lesson: as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts forth is leaves, you know that summer is near. Matthew 24:32.

God gives us hints of good things to come. Bad things too, if we have sown seeds of anger and hatred. But that is a thought for another day. Today, it is enough to revel in the sugar snap blossoms.

How easy it would be to get discouraged by a crop that is not as abundant as I had wanted. How easy it is to compare this year’s crop to last year’s and find it lacking. But every crop is different. Every year is different. And here’s the thing, this smaller crop may be an answered prayer.

I will be unavailable to pick my sugar snaps in late May, when they usually come in. Last year, I was picking 60 plus peas a day in late May. I was worried about this year’s harvest being lost. I planted the peas early so they would come in early, but if the weather had stayed cool, the plants would have matured longer (probably grown taller) and produced their flowers later. There was a chance I could miss the harvest.

But the higher temperatures and stunted growth have allowed my sugar snaps to flower in late April and bear fruit in early May. God is so good!

We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose. Romans 8:28.

So, maybe it’s all good news. Perhaps I shouldn’t complain or fret if reality does not look like I imagined in my head. This year is not last year. My life is different, my garden is different, the temperatures are different, why would I expect my garden to be the same?

What looks like a failure, or a disappointment, may be the perfect solution.

Perhaps, if I stop trying to impose my will on the situation, I can see how beautifully God has knit the world together. What love He has for the world that He gives us blossoms and hope, rebirth and growth, and perfect solutions to enrich our souls.

I should have sugar snaps by next week. Good news!

Do not be afraid; for see – I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people. Luke 2:10.

Has God shown you a blossom, a promise of growth and future fruit? Is God transforming what looked like disappointment into answered prayer? Are you focusing on the bad news or the Good News?

The fruit is coming soon!

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

Holy Week

Holy Week finds me mired in mundane tasks. We are about to celebrate God’s greatest act since creation, and I am wondering what I will wear.

Perhaps I should be focusing on what Jesus endured on our, on my, behalf. His willingness to endure such brutality so that I would not have to, so that I would not be marked for destruction because of my sins.

Perhaps I should be immersed in His humanity, his willingness and ability to walk among us as a human, to learn our language, feel our grief, and struggle beside us. His frustration with those who closed their ears and found fault was evident. Am I the pharisee in the story? Confident that I know how God will manifest Himself, quick to criticize anything new or uncomfortable?

Perhaps I should be rejoicing in His miraculous saving power, His coming resurrection, the gift of His Spirit. He is making me a new creation (2 Cor. 5:17). He has given me the ability to become a child of God (John 1:12), an heir to His kingdom (Romans 8:16).

Shouldn’t I be weeping at the foot of the cross or rejoicing at the empty tomb?

My raspberry has returned for her second year. This is my first perennial, possible only because I am no longer tilling my garden every spring. I was worried it might not survive the winter, but it is bright and green and sending new plants up in the cracks of the cardboard.

Soon it will be time to plant the summer garden. Perhaps this weekend if I get the plants bought and the weather cooperates.

Easter is late this year, and it has compressed too many activities into the following week. The lake beckons, writing deadlines loom, travel preparations need attention. Holy Week finds me mired in mundane tasks.

But are these mundane tasks? Lunches with friends, a chance to connect and support and love each other? Tending to the garden, growing food, interacting with nature? Appreciating the beauty in the world, the lakes, the creeks, the flowers, and the trees, is this not a form of worship of the One who created it all?

And in addition, I have the privilege of sharing with you the joy that my raspberry bush is alive. She survived the winter. She is growing and cheerful. Perhaps she will bear fruit this year, although I have been told to wait until the third year.

Perhaps it is in the mundane tasks of life that we are to see and remember God. Yes, there are the moments of extreme passion and tremendous theological impact like what we celebrate this week. Four days that really did change the world. But most of our time is ‘ordinary time.’ Time spent with family or friends, at the lake, in the yard, or at the kitchen sink.

Perhaps these are exactly the times when I am called to display Christ’s presence in my life. Am I willing to suffer a little to ease someone else’s burden? Am I willing to share the daily struggles of those around me? Am I open to God acting in unpredictable ways? Am I becoming a new creation through the power of God’s Spirit?

Am I, like my raspberry bush, bursting with new life and sending sprouts into bare spaces? If so, why am I wondering what I will wear?

And why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you that Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. Matthew 6:28-29.

I pray you have a blessed Holy Week, dear friends. I pray you acknowledge God in all the mundane tasks of life. I pray you have moments of weeping and moments of rejoicing and moments of quiet reflection. And don’t worry about what you wear; God sees your heart.

Love in Christ, Betsy