Shades of Green

I love my garden.

Sure it’s not very big, and there are a few stray weeds climbing through the dirt…

And the peas are falling over in the back because the trellis I bought was really not tall enough. My oregano is all in one clump because the rain washed the seeds into a pile and my chives are still not thriving.

But to me, it’s the best garden ever.



Tomatoes


My hubby kindly donated the start-up fees (wood, compost, manure, seeds), and my boys helped me dig it one sunny spring day, but really, I’m the sole gardener. I’ve tended. I’ve cared. I’ve planted.

And I’ve loved.

Peas

I don’t know how it happened, but it happened still. These plants, each one, I love them. I love to smell the mint and basil, to find green beans and peas hiding among the leaves. I love my strawberries even though I haven’t tasted a single one. (Darn old squirrels!!)

Mint

Whenever I work in the garden, I feel peaceful too. And my mind almost always wanders to thoughts of our great God, who I’m sure loves gardens as much as I.

After all, didn’t He make all the lovely herbs and vegetables at the beginning of time? By the word of His power? And didn’t he make each plant ready to yield fruit in its season? Create humidity and rain, fertile soil and sun? Yes, I’m certain that God loves gardens too.

Strawberry

I’m also pretty sure God hates weeds, but loves weeding… just like I do.

Parsely

I always think about uprooting sin in my life when I’m weeding. The analogy is just to strong for me to ignore.

I love getting down on my hands and knees, sorting between plants, and carefully working my hands through the soil to pull up the bad guys while protecting the life of the good guys.

Man. One could go crazy with the life analogy’s (both Biblical and not) hidden in gardening.

Basil

I think it’s another reason why I love my garden and gardening.  I pull weeds and feel like I am vanquishing the enemy. I water the herbs and imagine the Holy Spirit reviving me with refreshing rain.

Oregano

I watch my plants grow… and think of how God nurtures and cares for His people; providing for our every need, saving us, and teaching us to bear good fruit.

Cucumbers

Thank you, Lord, for tending me… and my garden too

“Pulling a Martha”

The last few weeks have been almost surreal with busyness.

I found myself running… and running fast… sometimes, I admit, even resembling a chicken with it’s head cut off. Okay, so I don’t even really know what a chicken looks like running around with it’s head cut off, but I’m sure it’s very frantic. And hectic. Like my life right now.

But in the middle of planning for trips, prepping for dinner parties and overnight guest, attending meetings, completing homework, finagling with insurance adjustors, and general stressing, I stopped.

And thought.

And realized…

I’d been pulling a Martha.

Yes. A Martha. As in, Mary and Martha, the sisters whom Jesus visited in Luke 10:38-41:

“Now it happened, as they went that He entered a certain village; and a certain woman named Martha welcomed Him into her house.  And she had a sister called Mary, who also sat at Jesus’ feet and heard His word.  But Martha was distracted with much serving, and she approached Him and said, “Lord, do You not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Therefore tell her to help me.”

And Jesus answered and said to her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and troubled about many things.  But one thing is needed, and Mary has chosen that good part, which will not be taken away from her.”

 

Just like Martha I’ve been busy.

And busy with true legitimate work that NEEDS TO BE DONE. Our home will not get a new roof, phone calls won’t get made, the dishes won’t get washed on their own.

They NEED. TO. BE. DONE.

But…

these verses, and the person of Martha, challenged me. Martha’s work needed to be done too. Yet, when she cried out in frustration, Jesus didn’t supply a handful of servants to help with the mopping and food prep. Instead he reminded her of the importance of sitting at his feet.

What a convicting passage for a woman like me!

Have I been worried and troubled about many things, but forgotten the one thing needful? Have I neglected to stop and sit at Jesus’ feet? Have I been ready and willing to receive His word? And to give myself up to His guidance in every area of my life?

Are all these things that consume me, necessary? I mean, who is making who busy? Am I making myself busy on purpose, so that I don’t have time to judge my intentions and motives?

Do I run around like crazy, putting enormous amounts of effort into our home, the children, church ministry, and Army functions, for myself? Or is for the Lord? Do I do it as unto Him?

Am I forgetting to stop and sit at Jesus’ feet? 

Sigh.

And so I sit here… and pray and ponder: Have I done the one thing needful? Or have I found myself pulling a Martha?

Love

 

We went to the park multiple times this week. The weather is perhaps as perfect as it gets here in the South so we’re taking advantage before the blistering summer heat kicks in.

Though humid, it hasn’t been more than 85 degrees and during each park trip there has been a pleasant cooling breeze ruffling through a hair.

As I said, it’s been just about perfect.

On one particular trip to the park, I took my 3 year old Joshua up to the bathroom. He’d been doing his little potty dance on the playground equipment and I was afraid he was going to do the unmentionable next to a nearby tree… so I called him and he cheerfully obeyed

We walked together, down the path, to the park restrooms. Josh prancing along beside me, sliding his feet in the dust.

Then he reached up and slid his hand into mine. I gave it a squeeze and thought how much I love this little boy. And then Joshua looked up at me and said,

“Mom, you’re my best friend.”

Squeezing back a tear, I knelt down and circled my arms around him and said, “I love you, my Joshua”

As he hugged me back, he said

“And I love you, my Mommy”

 

It just made my heart melt.

Stinking

So stinking busy, I can’t even say.

But so stinking thankful at the same time.

God is good. Through every season, through every trial, through every stage of this whirlwind we call life. God is good.

Fail

 

For some months now, we’ve been hanging out our laundry.

Not our dirty laundry, (we still try to keep that to ourselves), but our wet, just washed, laundry. The sun has been out and hot since February, making it perfect weather for clothes drying.

And it’s been great. Not only does our dryer get a break, but our utility bill is actually pleasant to look at.

So, it being a bright sun shiny day today, and me, being a mom of outdoorsmen (meaning I always have laundry to do), I hung out a load of laundry before we headed out the door. I love when I remember to do that. Somehow I feel like I’m multi-tasking if I have laundry drying, while also running errands and eating lunch. You know what I mean? It’s like a double whammy, with twice as much happening in the same amount of time. SCORE!!

Or… UN-SCORE!!!

Because… if you’re me, you don’t watch television and you don’t check the weather, so OF COURSE, it starts to rain while you are out. And so, you come home to find that the clothes had had just enough time to dry in order to help sop up the torrential downpour that came their way.

Fail.

Oh well, at least the clothes were multi-tasking this morning. Wet. Dry. Wet. Dry. And the weather too for that matter. Nice job, guys.

Pride

This past weekend, we were able to watch Nick perform his paratrooping skills again. Many of his jumps are at night, and many of them have follow-on missions, so we are not able to see him jump very often.

But when we are able to go… boy do we love it!. And I’m pretty sure Nick loves to jump for us. I don’t think I saw a frowning face from anyone that whole morning. Or if I did, I just chose to ignore them. Wink wink.

It’s hard to describe the feelings I have inside as I watch Nick jump. Fear. Anxiety. Joy. Patriotism. Amazement.

My breath always catches when I see the first paratrooper exit the plane… and I pray until I see the last one jump and all the parachutes open.

And just like the crew on chute detail, I’m thankful to count out the reserve parachutes… and to note that not a single one was needed.

But I think the biggest emotion that fills my heart is pride.

Huge, overwhelming, all-encompassing, pride.

My husband is a paratrooper and fearlessly jumps out of planes; ready and willing to serve our country at a moments notice.

Wow.

Guess I’m not the only one who thinks Daddy is amazing.