A garden is not static just as God’s time, times and seasons are not static. Nothing stays the same. One change only leads to another. Spring, summer, autumn, winter. We are as connected to the earth as are the elements He created us from. We cannot escape it. To be out of sync with creation is to be out of sync with God Himself. He gave us the stars, the sun, and the moon to show us His proper order for our days on the earth; the clouds that bring the rain in their season to water the ground in and upon which lives every plant and creature ever created. He gave us dominion over every living thing ever created. Some of these He gave us as elements to nurture the bodies He created; all of these elements, including each one of us, expressing a facet of His infinite character.
I’ve been reminded of this recently. For a full cycle of seasons now motivation to get out in the garden has escaped me. Every task, and there are so many, seems insurmountable. Unfinished projects loom before me. Where I weeded just last week needs to be done yet again. Weed. Repeat. Weed. Repeat. I can never seem to get beyond the weeding and clean up to the fun and exciting building and planting part. And for the last several months I’ve been unable to garden because of a knee injury.
But now, my knee has mostly recovered and I’ve been catching up. Again! It’s like starting all over again with the same tasks, the same problem areas. And I’m sure it’s the same weeds. But my recent physical slow down and continuing recovery has produced a shift in my attitude. No longer do I dive all-in and hurriedly attempt to tackle every project in a day so I can see the end result and move on to what I [think I] really want to do, like watch TV; instead I’m required to work more slowly, a little bit at a time, submitting to, synchronizing with the times and seasons of each project, whether weeding, building, planting plants or waiting for them to grow; purposefully observing as each unfolds, unveils and reveals its beauty. It’s a process requiring me to live in the present and learn to nurture and be patient with life in its many-faceted and beautiful seasons.
I had been asking God to give me patience and He asked me to garden. I asked Him for discipline and He asked me to write. In the time, times and seasons of my walk with Him, He continually reveals His deep and abiding love and patience for me and His many-faceted and beautiful disciplines of life. My heart is fulfilled and deeply satisfied when I put my hands to the tasks they’ve been given, expressing what they have to say.
Has it really been almost a year since I've visited my own site? Yes, it seems it has. I must confess, I've been a bit frightened of this new venture, allowing strangers into the secret recesses and dark passages that comprise the personal world of my mind.
It's time, though, to get this show on the road. I have a plan, to strike out and follow the path set out for me. I know, in my first post, I talked about this very same thing ~ if I'm a writer, then write. Okay, so it's takes me a while to get with the program.
Yesterday I had some very profound thoughts but today they're gone. I wish I'd written them down yesterday.
I sit and daydream ~ the thing I do best ~ and thousands of wonderful ideas float by, like the beautiful blue sky that peeks through the clouds that float across the valley.
I also want this site to be helpful to those who stop by. Things like yummy recipes, other excellent websites, thoughtful discoveries about life itself, the ups and downs of gardening and homemaking. And even the exciting adventures I have with my Abba.
So, I suppose this little post is a re-introduction of myself to this baby site of mine. A re-familiarization and a reminder of what I believe I'm supposed to do.
Is that a word, re-familiarization? If not, I'm going to make in one.
Have you ever awakened one morning with that dreadful feeling of remorse over something you'd done the night before? I have, more than a few times. Like when we'd spent more than we had on something we didn't need or when I'd done or said something really idiotic. And like that time when I'd had too much to drink ~ oh, wait, that was just a plain 'ole hangover.
Well, after posting my first blog late last night, this morning I performed that self-check, scanning heart and soul for heavy blobs of remorse. To my surprise and relief I felt none, not even a remnant. Instead a very real peace rested there. Then I realized that I had only done what God had asked me to do. If it turned out badly or if somebody took offense, well, He was the One Who'd asked me to do this. Not, mind you, that I would turn and blame Him. I prefer not to offend or anger anyone and I'd do my best to take responsibility for any bad writing and apologize when necessary. But there was, still is, a peace in my heart knowing that stepping out in faith, doing what He'd asked me to do, created a safe resting place in Him. If someone hated something I wrote, I could just point them to God and He could deal with them. Then with a swift kick of a click, I could delete their rude comment from my site.
In last nights blog I referenced The Whisperer of Love and Healing. God Himself. For years, He's been after me, very patiently urging me to write down the things of my heart. Last night, I finally caved in, created this site and posted my first blog. I couldn't take His loving, woo-ful nagging any longer.
Now this morning, this remorseful-free morning, having established within myself, this purpose of writing, I am free to dance within sentence structures, play with adverbs, nouns and adjectives, lift up phrases like banners to the Son.
It's so sweet, this freedom.
About 15 years ago I emailed a friend asking him if I was a writer. He wrote back, "If you're a writer, then write". That was it. No, "Love ya much". No, "Sincerely, Your Friend...". Not even a, "Respectfully Yours". In fact, I don't think he even signed his name.
His response was curt, abrupt and kinda hurt. I had hoped for a friendly and encouraging exchange, with him affirming some great gifting in me and passing along his sage advice. Boy, was I was disappointed. But all these years later, I finally see great wisdom in his sparse response.
Several people over the years had told me that I was a good writer. Like a good girl I'd say, "thank you", but promptly lodged the words on a dark shelf in the back of my mind. I didn't believe in me or that I had any value, let alone any value in what I had to say. But, occasionally, those kind words would sneak out into the light and tempt me. One day they caught me off guard, in a weak moment, and I signed up for a few writing classes. To my own great surprise, I actually showed up for all of them (after all, I paid for them), and enjoyed every one. But mostly I just stuck with my little journals or scribbled on stray scraps of paper, or kept all of my thoughts in my head until they floated away in cartoon balloons and I was left to eat chocolate, which wasn't so bad.
My husband would ask, "when are you going to write that book?", to which I'd mumble some poo-poo response. Occasionally I would ponder starting a blog and when I'd hear, here and there, that a friend or family member had started a one, I'd be surprised to discover I felt jealous. Even so, attempts at follow-through only dissolved into false starts. As soon as I'd even approach the idea to write, that niggling voice in my mind would sneer, "you'll never follow through. It might sound good in your head at this brief moment, but nobody'll want to read what you have to say".
Taunting. Taunting me it was...
Until very recently when my heart and soul finally succumbed in unison to the comforting sweet love of my Heavenly Creator. The Whisperer of Love and Healing. He's been working on this project, me, for a long time and I'm not sure how He's done it, but He's filled my heart with feeling that insists on being expressed and heard. Though, I do wonder, will I really do this? Will I write to keep from eating? Write to keep from drowning in the abyss of a billion thoughts? Write to remember? Write to forget? Write whether I'm good at it or not? Write whether anyone reads it or not? Write to breathe? Write to survive? Write with one hand on the keyboard, the other clenched defiantly in a fist raised like a shield pursuing what God has put in me..? Whew..!
Uhhh... humm... this... this is the wisdom my friend was trying to tell me! Instead of abrupt, it's just insisting. Instead of curt, it's just urgent to be heard.
It's really quite simple. If I'm a writer, then I should write.