lift my life

sunflower

 Babydoll brought a paper cup home from Sunday School filled with dirt.  A tiny seed hiding deep inside.  She planted it in the front yard in the same place that her Brother did the year before.  We watched it grow from the earth into one bloom bigger than her head. Some fuzzy bumble bees called it home for quite awhile.  At some point the weight of the flower became too heavy even for its strong stalk to hold up.  It spent weeks, months growing up toward the sun and then at some point slowly started bending its head down toward its Maker.  Humbled by the beauty that He created.  And yet a perfect example of the sunshine that helped warm the seed enough to start the first sign of growth.

good steward

He stood faithfully at the entrance of our sanctuary every Sunday morning.  An slender, above-average tall man with straight, fine, white hair parted down the middle and stopping just above the shoulders.  It made me smile when I first learned his name was in fact Harry.  It fit. 

He had a look about him like he was always on a mission.  Like he had a purpose in each action that he did while quietly serving our church each Sunday.  Working the lights, welcoming guests and doing behind the scenes kind of work.  

Come to find out he had been married to his petite wife for 43 years and was the CEO of a local credit union for 27 of those years.  He always greeted you with a smile as he handed you a bulletin.  

Then one week day morning he was driving to work at 6:15am and ran off the road and hit a pole in a single car accident.  Not long afterward, he was in the presence of his Savior and Lord.  63 years old.

I didn't know him at all.  The above description was the extent of my interaction with the usher that was seemingly the face of our fellowship. I wouldn't say I have been grieving his loss, but I was surprisingly shaken by his absence from this life.

One day he was there.  The next he was gone.

There is hope in the lives of the loved ones he left behind knowing they will see him again.  But suddenly my life seems so fragile.  The lives of my children.  My husband.  Why do I waste a moment demanding my own way or harboring resentment or holding onto fear?

The truth is, this life is not my own.  And the very second that God wants to take me home, my mission on this earth will be complete.

So why do I feel like a failure?  I had such lofty plans when we moved to this house, this street, this neighborhood.  I felt called to this community and believed God had big plans to use us here.  But really our days here could be numbered and suddenly I am pondering whether I have been a good steward of the purpose God set before us during this chapter of our lives.

he is with us

growth

I told My Love I wanted a garden.  I conned visiting guests into casually bringing up the subject so as to encourage him it was a good idea.  He still resisted.  And then one spring day he decided a small little garden in our huge back yard wasn't the worst idea in the world.  He chose the location.  He decided the size.  He planted the seeds.

I was mad.  I refused to participate in it at all.  

What I had hoped was going to be a neat homeschool experience wound up bruising my pride and so I pouted.  It was ridiculous really.  I mean, I should have been celebrating that My Love had finally agreed to let us grow a garden.  But instead I resisted because I wasn't the one in control of it all.  It was ugly.  In my heart (and out loud), I hoped the garden would be an epic fail.  That would show him.  I mean, in my opinion he did it all wrong and just plowed forward without any planning.  

God showed me instead.

There was growth.  In this tiny plot of land in the corner of our yard, plants shot up out of the rocky earth on top of each other and they flourished even without advanced planning by the sower.  Tomatoes are growing on top of squash on top of bell peppers on top of carrots.  But there is evidence of growth.  God sure showed me.  The circumstances weren't ideal.  The space was too small.  The seeds were planted too close together.  There wasn't enough rich soil on top of the rocky dirt.  

But God grew something beautiful and delicious from nothing and it didn't have a thing to do with me.

*****

Something happens when you grow your own food.  You do end up becoming invested in the process. You watch its growth and celebrate each developmental milestone.

Then up pops a late bloomer that you weren't expecting.  You cheer it on and water it tenderly hoping it will produce a crop equal to its nearby behemoth neighboring relative.  You wait and you watch. What is going to happen?

Then there is the plant that grows in size before it fully ripens.  You would have been satisfied with the juicy red fruit two weeks ago and yet it assures you it has more growing to do before it is ready to be plucked from the vine.  You wait and you watch.  What is going to happen?

There is the lettuce that first grew like a normal head and then changed later in the season and started growing tall toward the sky trying to reach closer to the sun.  It almost looks too crazy-radical to eat and yet once cut from the earth the lettuce leaves look the same in the bowl as the previous bunch.  I wonder what made it change course.  You wait and you watch.  What is going to happen?

Nearby the patio is a hanging basket of strawberries that blooms and produces successfully just in time to mold and rot on the thriving plant.  I'm talking dozens of them.  They grow in size along with everything else and then just as they start to turn red, they are consumed by the circumstances surrounding them.  Moisture.  Bugs.  A beautiful worthless bountiful harvest.  You wait and you watch.  What is going to happen?

And then finally there are the blueberries.  We planted five bushes around our patio watching them ever so slowly bloom and then berry and then finally begin to turn blue.  It took months.  We dreamed about all we would do with the berries.  We planned for a bumper crop smiling that we were outwitting the usual high grocery store cost.  And then one day recently, I looked out the school room window and saw a bird hop along the ground and pluck our beloved fruit right off the bush.  I ran outside hollering and noticed our precious plants were nearly bare.  The birds had found them and we were sustaining their life.  And yet a remnant remained.

 We are in a season of life where we are slowly realizing that God is in control.  It doesn't matter if it all makes sense or is pre-planned.  He can grow something beautiful from nothing in the heart of a person.  We watch and we wait trusting that something is going to happen and it has nothing to do with us.

written on my heart

I honestly didn't expect to feel this way.  In fact, I'm not sure I have ever before.  Deeply loved someone else's baby like this I mean.

But it just goes to show that what he shared with us was true.  Our friend from church said, "We had been praying for L for so long that by the time we saw her picture for the first time, we were in love."  Or something like that.  Don't quote me or anything.

Another friend's daughter has been home for two years now, and she already knows what I am beginning to understand.  "Some babies are born in their Mommy's tummies and some babies are born in their Mommy's hearts!!" she said.  She really gets it.

It wasn't until I held God's answered prayer in my arms this past week that I started to see what they were talking about.  How God can grow a love for someone through prayer that you have only just met.  I held her as much as I could during the four days they spent with us.  Often little things she did at a mere three months old would take me back to moments experienced with my own children.  The sudden jerking movements of her appendages.  Spontaneous smiles. Lint between little fingers.  Memories that don't come to mind easily otherwise.  

But the funny thing is snuggling this precious life didn't make me long for another infant of my own like it does for some.  As I watched our dear friends bustle about the house getting baby gear together for a day's outing, it almost confirmed my desire not to return to those hectic days of diaper bags and strollers and front packs.  Yes, JP, it gets easier.  

Once again God used this angel baby to speak to my heart.  Does she know what an instrument she has been in the building of my faith already?

I loved my talks on the couch, patio, car, and walking in the rain with my dear friend.  "If God had told me five years ago that the journey would have taken this long, would it have helped?" she asked rhetorically.  "I don't know."  I'm not sure it would have.  The waiting would have felt pointless.  Yes, we would know the exact day and hour but I think we would all live differently (not relying on the Lord) if he showed us our individual big pictures in advance.  

Yesterday morning (oh how it feels like longer), I took H out in the back yard while her parents were getting ready for the day and packing for their drive to the airport.  The air was peaceful and the morning sun crisp.  It was a precious time spent singing and talking to her as she sat nestled in my arms beginning to doze off to sleep.  Praying for her life as I had been doing for years and knowing this little peanut was taking a bit of my heart with her back to California.  Through prayer, God had given me a love for her that can't be explained.

We are in a new place in our family.  A season that I hope to be able to write more about soon.  One where you begin to wonder when the next rain is going to come and if the path we are on now will keep us wandering for longer than we would prefer.

But the waiting is not done in vain.  It is not to make us suffer.  And in fact, I praise him for withholding the big picture.  I think I would be discouraged if he announced the exact day and hour and realized it is still years off.  I might even go so far to say I welcome the wait.  Not because of all the wonderful work he is doing in us in the meantime (which he is), but because I know he is writing the names of faceless little bundles that will one day call me Mama on my heart.  So when I see them--when I hold them--the love will be so deep and overwhelming because we prayed.  I can almost feel the heavenly pen pressed against beating flesh starting to write.

I can not begin to describe how joyful it was to see our friends as parents.  They are still entrenched in middle-of-the-night feedings and burp cloths and drool marks.  But it looks so beautiful on them.

Happy 1st Mother's Day JP!  You are an amazing Mommy.  I love you!

while celebrating ten early