A few weeks ago, Glory and I took a trip to south Georgia to pick up her new car. We stayed in Cairo with heirloom friends. Della has been one of my best friends since we were first introduced by another heart-song, high school soul mate, Kenneth. I fell for her husband, Jeff, as she did.

Jeff has an offbeat sense of humor.  He has a quirky view of the world, looking underneath …. investigating texture, smell and content …. questioning motive and perspective …. and making observations all along the way. There is no untouchable topic. He happily discusses Rush Limbaugh, sex, plastic cups, drumsticks or recycling.   He isn’t afraid of confrontation or a deep discussion. He makes me think and challenges my perspective. He aches my abs from belly laughs. He hears a different tune and is perfectly happy to march to it’s beat alone, if no one is within arms reach. He digs deep within and gives graciously from that cavernous depth. He thoroughly cherishes his wife.  And he loves her and God fully, deeply, richly, opulently.

After a weekend of fellowship, Della and Jeff and I stood outside in their drive discussing the weekend and bidding our good-byes.  Jeff stood there with his arm around his wife and reached out to “family hug” me goodbye.

Then,
he bowed his head to pray.

I stood there
listening
agreeing
petitioning the Father
with this man
and his wife ….
my friend who has been a friend
for a greater portion of my life
than I spent without her sweet presence.

I stood and listened to his baritone words
reverberate within his barrel chest,
pour from his heart
and lilt upward.

And I was thankful.
…. thankful for a man not apprehensive to pray for a friend…
…….. grateful for a brother who has an appetite for holy ….
.. appreciative for someone who would do more than just pray for me,
but would pray for me,
over me
and with me.

He prayed for me.
He blessed me.
He made me happy.

And so I share with you this Monday morning
that prayers make me happy.
Friends that pray make me smile.

And I ask you to pray for me, my children and my husband.

I’ve mentioned before that Comedy does not read my blog.
A friend, who has read, suggested that he read my words.
Over the weekend, he did.  I’m thankful for that,
but not surprised by his response.

He and I have always had a different perspective on
… just about everything.
It was a good thing,
because together it gave us balance.
But, it also created struggle.

That struggle continues.

I write here
about the spiritual world seen on this physical planet.
….. about my Heavenly Father that teaches me,
…… about my decision to love that which is unlovely
and embrace the difficult that I might be more Christlike.
I write with gratitude, gratefulness and a happy heart.

He hears me say “woe is me.”
I have tried my best to be honest
while still speaking the truth … from my perspective.
While he does not like
or agree with
many of the things I have written,
they are the things that I have seen and experienced …
from my perspective.
I have tried to be respectful and gracious.

We, he and I,  are reading the same page
from the same book
but read with different eyes
and certainly interpret things differently.

And so he has asked me to quit blogging.

Comedy chose to walk away and not be my leader, my husband.
But, I made a vow to be his wife
and accept his leadership
for better or worse.
I have not always agreed with his decisions,
but have learned that “agreement” with the boss
is not a prerequisite to obedience of the order.

My immediate reaction to Comedy’s request was two-fold:
“NO! I love writing and showcasing my photos” (my flesh talks)
and
“Lord, you’ve already told me this!!” (my spirit talks)

So, I began to ask….
should I quit?

I wrote here
“I guess what it boils down to for me is
if I have to ask the question,
“Is it okay?”
then it probably isn’t.”

In this case:
If I have to ask,
“Do I really have to quit, Lord?”
Then, I probably do.

In this case, I have felt the Lord telling me I needed to change my energy targets.
I stopped blogging on weekends several months ago, saving myself two posts a week.
Typically, a post takes me at least an hour to create.
It involves sitting down to write and re-write,
taking photos and editing them,
creating headers and studying the wordpress site.
I would estimate that I spend at least ten hours a week
or more
with my laptop in my lap
for the blog.

At one time, I had ten hours to share.
At this point in my life,
I no longer have that.

I have one more year to dedicate to school. I really need to focus on learning everything that I can so that I can be as creatively successful as possible. And there is so much to learn.  I want to master many programs and learn all sorts of new tricks,
but I cannot create more time.
I must shift my focus to use my time differently.

This prompting from the Lord
has been echoed in the voice of my husband,
which is a voice that God has used often.

Though my pride wants to continue to show my photos
so that I can have your positive feedback…..
and my spirit wants your encouragement as I share my soul
and walk through this place in my life ….
and my soul needs your accountability  …
a place to share how I feel and what I’m doing
and be open to be called out when rebuke is in order….
I must walk away.
It is time for a more private growth,
accountability
and focus on God.

I have fairly recently begun my personal list of 1,000 Gifts.
I’ve questioned God how I should continue this.  Though I would love to continue my list on-line with photos to tell the story,
even this should become a private documentary.
Which is wonderful….
Because it is truly
His list anyway.

And, as hard as it is to step out,
I look for the place God wants me next.
I would love for my photography to grow.
I want to sell my work
in some fashion.
I will search for the next phase,
chapter,
the next step.

And so, I thank you for your sweet on-line fellowship,
your kind friendship
and your encouraging support.

Prayers make me happy this marvelous Monday morning.
May I ask for your prayers in the weeks and months ahead
as I petition the Father on your behalf as well.

Blessings,

-|<@ren   (pinkcamojeep)

]]> http://waistingaway.wordpress.com/2009/11/16/prayers-make-me-happy/feed/ 11 pinkcamojeep Jeff and Della http://waistingaway.wordpress.com/2009/11/16/gifts-of-beauty/ http://waistingaway.wordpress.com/2009/11/16/gifts-of-beauty/#comments Mon, 16 Nov 2009 07:33:44 +0000 pinkcamojeep http://waistingaway.wordpress.com/?p=4210 ]]>

One day last week, I was listening to a radio program on WAFJ.  Dr. Dobson interviewed a family with a daughter, Emily, who was injured many years ago in a tragic car accident.  The doctors did not believe she would walk again, but she was determined. Eventually, she healed and grew up and was able to move out and live on her own.

But, she had a second accident, ten years later, with a calf on a farm and ended up with a spiral break in her leg.

She tells the story of struggling with discouragement on the morning of the second accident.  She remembered her mother’s adage to think of three things to be thankful for when you’re feeling down. She was so discouraged, he had trouble thinking of a third …..

If you’d like to listen to the story, you can do so here. It’s a thirty minute talk show, so if you’d like to specifically hear this part of the story, begin to play the story and then move the slider bar over to 7:00 minutes.  This part of the story is about two to three minutes long.

As I drove along, listening to this story, I was struck by her words.  Emily shared that the three things that she was able to be thankful for
on that gloomy morning
were all physical things -
that were removed from her that afternoon
with this new break from the calf.

And I thought of my list of 1,000 Gifts.

They’re almost all “things.”

God is working on Ann’s heart. She writes here..
these poignant words
that grip my soul
and shake me…

If we can give thanks for beautiful
if we are grateful for the lovely
if we only appreciate that which is
sweet, rich and delightful

we

Christians

are just like the world.

And so I chew.
I turn over the thoughts in my mind.
I evaluate my motives.
I ask God to show me His ways.
I beg to be renovated from the inside out
that I would
love the unlovely
cherish the difficult
embrace a thorn
that I be made stronger
and my life richer
because I see through His eyes
love with His heart
walk with His gait.

My mind drifts back to my 1,000 Gifts;
sweet potatoes, ribbon, canoes, jute
bracelets, rocks, leaves, flea soap
moss, grocery hauler, verbs, gifts, fog….

Help me, Lord, to be thankful for the eternal
to dig deeper and see the spiritual gifts
given to me through
the physical world around me…
even though those gifts are often
draped
cloaked
shrouded
in the unpleasant
… even harrowing.
Oh, that I might experience life
through the movement of your Holy Spirit
thankful for your ever gift
no matter how it is wrapped.

So, I’m on my way out of town.  My wonderful big kids are handling sweet Boo for the weekend.  I’m going to Atlanta to spend some time with old college friends. I’m really looking forward to it.  I want to remember, in all the excitement, to keep my eyes open for God.

I hope that your weekend is fabulous.  Maybe you days be restful and rejuvenating.  May He speak to you in whispers and song.  I pray that you hear the voice of the rocks as they cry out in praise. And that you and your family join in on the song.

See you Monday!

One at a time, we are taking care of things around our home that have needed attention for quite some time.

God has been so gracious to keep our hot water heater operating and leak-free for quite some time.  I knew it was only a matter of time before we would have to replace it.  And the time finally came.

Last week, I began to notice a slow dribble of water that was running down the side of the heater that began a little puddle on the floor.  We knew we only had a few days, at the most, before we would have wet carpet and be in a danger zone.

I did some price comparing and made a few phone calls for help.  Ryan and his wonderful dad came to the rescue for us!!

To be honest, I felt really bad about asking for help.  Comedy seemed to think that it was a very big job, surely because he had simply never done it before.  He always made me so proud when he would try to tackle any job around our home.  No matter how big or small, he would stick with any job he started.  And he always did an excellent job, researching the hows and wheres so things would work just right.  I was always in awe of his determination and ability to figure things out.

But, he was a little daunted by the thought of changing out a gas water heater.  So, I was certain it must be a monumental task.  Thus, I felt bad for asking anybody for help.

But, Ryan and Kelvin weren’t at all put off by the job.  In fact, start to finish, it probably would have taken them less than an hour ….. had they not had to exchange the water heater that I bought the previous day.  You purchase it “still in the box.”  When we began to take away packaging,  it looked like it had been dropped at some point along the way. 

I thanked them profusely …

before they did the job …

and after!

We fed them pizza for lunch.

And I made them a thank you card…

and included a gift certificate for a local restaurant.

I texted them thank you several times afterward.

I bragged about them on my Facebook wall.

I don’t really know of any other way I could have thanked them.

But I don’t think they understood

just how much it meant to me.

They were happy to help us.

It was amazing.

And they did the job quickly.

And well.

I will remain grateful … honestly?  For years. Truly. No. I’m serious.

And see those two knobs at the top?  Ryan’s dad was even happy to go the extra mile for me.  I wanted to be able to control the water going into the water heater and leaving it.

See, we have a “ten minute shower” rule here.  I just don’t see any reason to spend more than ten minutes in the shower. It’s wasteful of water and gas to stay longer than that.  Really!  How long could it possibly take to wash a body?  There are millions of people in this world who would love to have a two minute warm shower!  There is no need for us to waste something just because we have access to it.

So, I want to be able to turn off the hot water at the heater when I have a shower lingerer!  Of course, they get a ten-minute warning with a knock on the door.  But, if you don’t heed the warning, you’re close to goosebumps!!  It was such a blessing to have this knob added to our equipment.

And so, I’m grateful.  I’m thankful for a hot water heater that was installed with ease by men that were happy to help us.  I’m thankful for two knobs, rather than one, to control water flow.  And I’m thankful that the job is behind us, not looming in front, with us wondering when and how messily the breakdown will be.

Yes, I’m grateful.  And I really don’t think they understand.

Thank you, Ryan and Kelvin. You blessed us deeply.

Lately, I’ve noticed something unusual.  When I used to struggle with life (years past … in the winter, especially), I would want to sleep to escape.  I would sleep all night and still want to take a nap in the afternoon.  I know that part of that is simply a seasonal thing for me, but I also knew I was running away from struggles at home.

I’ve noticed recently that my place of escape has changed.   Rather than wanting to “run away and hide” (the way I used to feel when I felt overwhelmed) when I want to get away for a bit, now I think of my camera and I am filled with a sense of … contentment.  I want to go somewhere and search for God’s physical beauty, capture it and save it to share. 

There is something so invigorating to me about taking photographs. I am able to take the ordinary … the overlooked … the common … bring it in close and freeze-frame it’s beauty.  It’s a very satisfying thing.

On one of our recent photo shoots, my friend Ellen commented that she feels most complete or whole when she has a camera in her hand.  That hit the nail on the head for me, as well.  It’s when I am snapping photos that I am full.

It made me think about the physical/spiritual parallel again.  Maybe this is because, when I have camera in hand, I am actively searching for beauty.

Which convicts my soul:
Am I so invigorated when I search for spiritual truth and beauty?  <ouch>

I would have to at least answer “Yes, I am invigorated” …
but I do not often enough sit down to search.

So, thinking as I type here, if I kept my Bible
as close as I keep my camera,
(one in my purse or pocket
and the back up in my school book bag)
would I reach for it more often?
Open it’s pages?
Search for beauty within?

Surely, it is so.
Oh, that I would search for His spiritual beauty
as often as I search for His physical wonder.

God has given each of us some special gift to encourage, direct and invigorate us … a gift that He wants us to use to bless others.  This made me think of you all.  May I ask you a question?  I was just wondering, what excites you?  What is something you love that energizes you like no other activity?

“I wear no uniforms, no blues or army greens
But I am in the Army in the ranks rarely seen
I have no rank upon my shoulders – salutes I do not give
But the military world is the place where I live”

Three years ago, February,  Comedy retired from a year Army career.
We were married almost the entire time he was serving.
One of his friends in recruiting made him a beautiful collage.
She must be a talented crafter, as she did such a nice job on the gift.

And she also sent me a gift.

“I’m not in the chain of command, orders I do not get
But my husband is the one who does, this I can not forget
I’m not the one who fires the weapon, who puts my life on the line
But my job is just as tough. I’m the one that’s left behind”

I can remember
very,
very,
very few gifts that have brought tears to my eyes,
but this gift did. It is a poem by an unknown author that I had read many times before,
but I never dreamt that there would be anyone who would personally
speak the words to me,
thanking me for my dedication
and the life that I chose
to stand beside a man
who stands in front of our country
to protect and defend it.

“My husband is a patriot, a brave and prideful man
And the call to serve his country, not all can understand
Behind the lines I see the things needed to keep this country free”

And so, I always think of the wives of those who serve when a military holiday, like Veteran’s Day, rolls around. For every married Soldier, every Marine with a spouse, every person who serves our country militarily who is wed, the thanks should be multiplied. And those with families, the thanks is handled exponentially.

“My husband makes the sacrifice, but so do our kids and me
I love the man I married, Soldiering is his life
But I stand among the silent ranks known as the Army Wife.”

So, I write today to say,
Thank you, Kimberly, for sweetly, kindly, graciously telling me thank you.
Your gift was much larger than you realize.

And I ask you, on this Veterans Day, to thank more than a soldier.
Thank a soldier,
and his wife
for serving our country.
Your words will be greatly appreciated.
Much more than you can imagine.

This was Joy last Monday morning. It’s not enough for her to get up and and simply state that she’s tired (having not gone to bed early enough the night before …. such a difficult task, ya know?). It’s not even enough to throw herself on the couch, or even the floor.  No.  To get my attention ….. for emphasis … for theatrical effect, she climbs onto the dining table – a make/shift stage – to moan about having to get out of bed. Maybe other homeschoolers experience this in the morning, but before traditional school, we never had mornings so glum.  Joy was up by 8:00 and greeted the day with a smile.

Don’t get me wrong, when my big kids became teens, late night habits and the need for extra sleep made early rising with a smile less frequent.  But, Joy is only ten.

Upon leaving the table, to further the drama,
she decided sitting in the snugly cat bed (the closest thing to climbing back into her OWN bed) would be better than having to simply sit in a chair or on the couch.

Through it all, her sense of humor remains.  One day last week when the clock was nearing eight, Glory found Joy on the computer playing a game (a “no-no” before school).  James was in bed as his classes don’t begin until mid-morning on that day and I had an altered schedule that allowed me the morning home as well.  Thus, Glory was the only one getting ready.  She loudly asked,
“Am I the ONLY one going to school today????”
In her matter-of-fact, dry tone,
Joy quipped back with Eeyore’s voice spilling from pretty little lips,
“I hope so.”
She’s so much like her brother
and so NOT like her sister.
But, they all keep me entertained.

And I think of Comedy.  Surely he’s lonely without all the fun, comedy, drama and activity in his life.  Surely.  I could not leave them. No matter my surroundings, I would not, could not leave them.

There were times when I entertained the thought when Comedy was here.  There were even times that I would say, “I should just leave.”  Maybe, in fact, I helped him to leave me by doing this.  I don’t know.  What I do know is that he disliked me so much that I thought it might be better for him raise them the way that he wanted… because he did not like any decision I made … anything I said … any idea I shared.  I wondered if it would be better with my having stepped to the side.

But, I knew that, no matter my discomfort, it would not be good for the children. Can it be helpful for a parent to walk away?  Maybe there are times … and maybe Comedy did the needful thing. That’s certainly not mine to judge. It is between he and God. But,  he did what he felt he had to do.

Most important, though, is whether right or wrong, God can bring beauty from the mess.  He can use the fiery discomfort to purify. He can bring luster from the tarnished.  He can take the earthen pot, pour or paint on the glaze and  fire it in a kiln and it will emerge with dazzling color, shiny … useful …. alluring.

And so, another week begins…..

with spelling words and times tables, homework and signed papers,
science, social studies and orchestra.
We look for the beauty.
Thespian mornings of “woe is me” are not helpful. I encourage Joy to use her drama for good. Dream big dreams in orchestra. Think big ideas in science. Write intricate, moving stories in english. Dramatic giving, theatrical loving and deep, rich befriending are good.  They are all work…sacrifice, even … but they are good.

As is the custom in the south, we had several wet days in October. It’s just the way things work around here.  The days get shorter … and wetter, simultaneously.  And after our long, hot, dry summers, it’s probably a good thing.

Unless you’re driving.

With slick tires.

Glory’s new car is such a blessing.  She’s let me drive it once or twice, and I tell you, it’s a F U N car to drive.  I’ve never been much of a “status” kind of person, so it’s a little bit awkward driving a car so flashy.  In fact, I love my brown grocery hauler. It’s certainly no “Statement Maker,”  so it’s kind of unusual to know that people give you a second look in her sporty red wheels.

She says sometimes she wonders if people look at her and think she’s spoiled because she’s driving that car.  She’d love to have a vanity plate that says “My Daddy didn’t buy me this car … I worked for it!”  I’d love to change it out when I drive.  Mine would say, “No, I’m not having a mid-life crisis, thank you! This car is my daughter’s.”

My favorite part of the car, oddly enough, is the sweet purr that the engine makes.  It gets great mileage, as it’s a six cylinder… but it has a strong little engine that makes the sweetest sound.  I love to hear it “vvvvrooooooommmmm” as you shift from gear to gear.

The car is in excellent shape, but really needed two new tires on the rear.  They weren’t completely slick, but were definitely wearing a little thin. Glory’s dad planned to put new rubber on on November 1st (and has since done that), but the week before, we had some heavy rain.

One Tuesday afternoon upon leaving school, Glory was at the intersection of a five lane road and a crossing two lane road (that leaves the college), when she turned left (with a green arrow) across traffic to catch our 520 Bobby Jones By-pass heading  home.  She gave the car some gas …. and lost control of the car. The car is heavy in the front (from the engine) and lighter in the back (empty trunk).  She didn’t have enough traction with the wearing rear tires and her car fishtailed dangerously.  She didn’t spin around completely, but could have easily spun into oncoming traffic, had God not had His protecting hand on her car.  She was able to regain control, but said that the whole episode … all three to five seconds …. was terribly frightening.

A girl in my class left school the same afternoon, out of a different school exit, driving a blue Mustang similar.  She turned left across traffic – and was hit and totaled her car.  She broke an arm and injured her knee, but nobody was seriously injured or killed.

And I praise God.  I thank Him that nobody was killed in Ashley’s wreck and that Glory was spared an accident.

Of course, these kinds of things always make you wonder, “Why one and not the other?”  It’s a tough thing, isn’t it, to trust that He is in control?

Glory is being careful with her car.  She’s caring for it and driving safely … but I try to remind her that it’s His anyway.  If something happens, we’ll praise Him through it. But, you know that we’re praying that she never has a wreck at all. But, I have to say that I was reminded of God’s protecting hand.  I’m thankful that he spared Glory and her car injury. I’m thankful that he spared Ashley’s life.

And so, this Monday morning, I’m thankful for God’s protecting hand.

What makes you happy this Monday morning?

This is the post that I don’t know how to write.
This is the entry that I don’t even know how to begin.

<sits idle    ……   thinking >

It began when I asked for feedback, here, about my Angelina Jolie purse.

I had one discreet friend call me.  She didn’t want to call me out in public.  She shared that the purse wasn’t so bad, until she thought about her son or her husband looking at it.  So, yes, it was “too much.”

Other friends told me that they liked it.

But it was sweet Naomi, whom I wrote about here, whose words were difficult.

The purse was on my shoulder when I went to Tennessee to visit with her family,
so she saw it in person.

When I wrote about the purse, she responded that  …

well …

that she was angry when she first saw it.
How could I possibly see the purse as being acceptable
when I have written here about modesty?
In other words, she felt I was being hypocritical.

Wow.

Well …
that was just it …
I was struggling with whether it was okay or not.
I WANTED it to be okay.
I really liked the purse.
I liked it because it was a magazine, reinvented into a fun purse
with a funky chain shoulder strap
and a beautiful woman on it.
Not because it had Angelina Jolie on it
or because it was risque.

After I read Naomi’s comment,
I burned the purse.
(Have I mentioned that my Joy is dramatic?
Where,  oh where does she get that?)

It wasn’t enough to give it away
or even throw it away.
I felt I needed to destroy it
as a symbol that I wanted it gone
removed
singed from my life.

I needed my children to see that I don’t want sin in my life.
I want it removed, destroyed, burned away.
I needed them to see me accept being called out
and taking action to correct what might cause someone to stumble.

I have given the whole situation a great deal of thought….
for months now.
I’ve thought about my responsibility to the men in my life:
acquaintances, loved ones and strangers alike.
I’ve thought about my witness to others …
young girls, church friends, family members, unbelievers ….
and the message the purse may have sent….
that  immodesty is
fun…
desirable…
acceptable.

My mind always drifts back to Paul’s words to the Corinthians.
The tenth chapter tells us that we shouldn’t cause anyone to stumble,
whether Jew, Greek or part of the church (v32).
All things are lawful/legal for me,
but not necessarily helpful or edifying (v23).
We should consider the well-being of others (v24).
Most of this chapter is talking the food that we eat
but Paul adds in verse 31,
“Whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.”
In fact, Romans 14 is also addressing food issues
but tells us (v13) that we should strive not to be a
stumbling block to our brothers.
How do we know where to draw the line when
(v14)  there is no food that is truly bad (unclean)
only things that we personally think are bad.
My understanding would be that
our conscience should be our guide.
Whether we are talking about
food
clothing
attitude
words
or
accessories.
Our conscience should be our guide.

I guess what it boils down to for me is
if I have to ask the question,
“Is it okay?”
then it probably isn’t.

I’d like to think that my spiritual walk is so mature
that I immediately obey when the Lord speaks to me about something.
Obviously, that would be a prideful and terribly incorrect statement.

Do I have any resolution in my spirit over the matter? No.
But I wanted you to know that I accepted the rebuke
and acted upon it
because I certainly don’t want to be a stumbling block.

Thanks for being brave to share your thoughts, Naomi.
You are precious.

I’ve never been much of a mall shopper, BUT I have thoroughly enjoyed our Augusta Mall since it’s renovation. We have a Coldwater Creek women’s clothing store!  And a Williams-Sonoma Kitchen store! A Sephora!! And even an Apple store!!!  Yes!!  Oh, that we might have an Anthropoloie sometime? <wishes>I always park at the lifestyle center end of the mall. I enjoy the new entrance with it’s welcoming atmosphere.  I don’t mind walking a longer distance to enter the mall this way.  I enjoy window shopping and finding great bargains.  I enjoy eating in the food court.  I love, love, love to shop with Glory.  I’ve even enjoyed shopping for clothes, probably because I’m finding clothes compliment my figure rather than  fight it since I’ve lost weight. In fact, Glory and I easily share clothes now!!  What a treat! My accessible wardrobe has doubled since dropping pounds!

The renovation of the mall took quite some time.  The grand opening of the new design opened last year around the first of November.  This renovation cost TENS of MILLIONS of dollars.  I can’t find a cost quoted anywhere in print, but estimates are near $65 million dollars. I’ll be honest with you:  I can’t quite grasp that sum of money. What I can grasp is that millions of dollars is a tremendous amount.

With all that money being poured into the planning and execution of a renovation, here is what struck me this past spring.

These concrete planters weigh hundreds of pounds.  They can cost more than a thousand of dollars.   I expect that the cost of the planter, the soil and boxwood together exceeds two thousand dollars.  These planters are scattered all around the new end of the mall.

Keep in mind: boxwoods are pretty hard to kill. They are hearty, ever-green plants. They do not drop their leaves.  But, these did.  All of them.
These boxwoods were not cared for and they died.
Surely, they died from dehydration.

Each time I would visit the mall,
I would wonder
“Has anyone that works here noticed these lives
shriveling, wilting, wasting away?”
Wasn’t there someone who was in charge of landscaping and caring for the plants?  Was anyone put in charge of these plants to make sure that they were
properly tended?

Each time I would walk by them, I saw that parallel ….
the physical and the spiritual ….
the parallel that I look for …
that I ask my Heavenly Father to show me….
the analogous picture of
where we live -
the .. tangible … palpable world
and who we are -
the ethereal … untouchable spiritual world.

Not so many weeks ago, I noticed new life in the urns of cement.
I noticed them while I was still at a distance.
And could see just as clearly
that care had been taken to make sure that this new vegetation
would make it …
it was tended and
would thrive.

Having watched the skeletons of old life stand tall in dry soil for months,
I was thankful to see a new watering system was put into place at each pot
for the new flora.
Do you see the hose that encircles the base of plant?
Sweet, life giving water!

And look!  The pine bark mulch on top looks dry,
but beneath the surface, the soil is moist and rich.
Yes, these holly will have a much better chance for
surviving ….
…. thriving
than the neglected boxwood of last year.

I, too, was bought with a price….
one too large for me to fathom …
too great for me to understand.

He has provided the Living Water of Christ
a spirit that will keep my spirit hydrated and healthy.
I don’t understand it
but I know that it is true
because I have read about it
and I experience it.
I have lived portions of my life
a skeleton standing in dry soil
but know that I hold the handle in my hand….

I can reach out for help.
I can reach up.
I can reach over and open my Bible.

Or I can stand
crisp and brittle.

I thanked God for yet another snapshot through the viewfinder of His camera.
He teaches me, talks to me, leads me, guides me.
He protects me, nurtures me and waters my soil.
He shows me pictures of who He is
and who I am
in this wonderful world …
intricate, elaborate and ornate
physically and spiritually.