Tag Archives: awareness

Markers

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I have previously written about my love for feathers, how a long time I ago I began to recognize the finding of a feather as a small signal that God is present.  Often when I pray for myself or others I pray for hiding under the shadow of His wing.  It is very simple, I choose these tiny found objects as reminders of how God has been and will be with me.  This is not the only reminder, there is evidence all around me in my home and garden.  Recently as I was reading passages in the Old Testament which speak of the stone markers erected to remind both present and future generations of God’s help, I realized these and my feathers are doing the same thing – simply saying “remember!”

“Samuel took a large stone and placed it between the towns of Mizpah and Jeshanah. He named it Ebenezer—”the stone of help”—for he said, “Up to this point the Lord has helped us!” —1 Samuel 7:12, NLT

Here I raise mine Ebenezer;
hither by thy help I’m come;
and I hope, by thy good pleasure,
safely to arrive at home.
Jesus sought me when a stranger,
wandering from the fold of God;
he, to rescue me from danger,
interposed his precious blood. —Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing

Surviving

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Gardens are such good storytellers!  The climbing rose in this picture is on an arbor by our backyard fish pond.  It is a Peggy Martin rose.  For those who may have never heard this story, I will tell you it is named for the woman who grew it in her garden near New Orleans, along with hundreds of other roses before Hurricane Katrina.  All the roses were under about 20′ of salt water for two weeks following the hurricane. When she was finally able to return to visit their property she found new growth on this one rose, all that remained. In the devastation she also lost her elderly parents, her home, and commercial fishing boat that her husband used to supplement their income.  She didn’t even know the name of the rose since a cutting had been given to her by mother in law who had also been given a cutting.

Dr. Bill Welch from Texas A&M along with other antique rose experts and growers helped to get the newly named “Peggy Martin” rose into the marketplace where proceeds help restore gardens throughout the South devastated by Katrina and other forces of nature.

The story always makes me wonder what made this rose any different from the rest to give it the resilience and fortitude to say “I’m still here and growing better.”   One thing has to be that its roots were stronger and deeper.  I am still thinking about the fact that its cuttings root very easily…it is flexible and can handle change.  The telling of all this has to include a theme of restoration, too.  Out of the Martins’ great loss has come a way to help others.

What a good gardening story!  Soul gardening, too.

Connections

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John Muir said, “When one tugs at a single thing in nature, he finds it attached to the rest of the world.”  This year the early blooming trees are particularly beautiful. Redbuds, Huisache, Plums, Bradford pears are a riot of purples and yellows and lacy whites along with still bare branches. When I go for a walk, I often find myself at a standstill, stopped in my tracks at the sight of one tree bursting with color.  A turn of my head brings more flowering.  The trees lead me to each other, all singing songs of fresh starts.

March 1 on a South Texas Country Road

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March 1 on a South Texas Country Road

Winter palette fades.

Painted over by Springing.

Weary gray tinges green.

 

Bare branch silhouette

 Softens, hazed in chartreuse fog.

Baby leaves split tight coats.

 

Shiny buds unfold

Clover, dandelion, moss

Each green different

 

 Why call it Red Bud?

It’s lilac, pink, violet.

Purple vetch vines, twines.

 

 Blue wood violet,

Saffron puffs of sweet Huisache

Fill air with fragrance.

 

Indian Paintbrush

                                             Tiny torches start to blaze,

scatter scarlet flames.

 

Not yet showing bloom,

  Bluebonnets, Crimson Clover

soon add to Spring’s song.

 

 Bleak chill of winter

Gives way to resurrection,

melody of Life.

Ash Wednesday

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In a journal from three years ago, I found thoughts about Ash Wednesday that are much the same I would write today.  “Lent, Day 1.  We are adding readings from Psalms to the few minutes we have before Joe leaves for work in the mornings.  In all my Protestant years growing up, Lent was little recognized most of the time.  I have grown in need and appreciation of these set apart days approaching Easter and in all my observation of the liturgical year.  I crave the structure, need the framework for deepening spiritual sensitivity and awareness.  So begins arranging days and heart and home in new awareness of Eastering.”

Crosses of ashes,

sign of beginning journey,

mark Lenten promise.

Sing a Song, Tell a Story

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I am deeply touched this morning as I read a blog I follow:  www.allenlevi.wordpress.com.  Often I find that God brings story and song to my attention like a friend coming alongside me to remind me what matters.  This video is from a previous post of Allen’s during a time in which he has been caring for his terminally ill brother, Gary.

                                                               Sing a Song, Tell a Story

Beginnings

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At the beginning of a new year, I am not so much making resolutions as I am considering how I spent myself and a year’s worth of time in the year just past.  That leads to choices about spending time and personal resource in the present.  What do I need to keep or change in order for me to honor God, delight in His presence, and show my love to others in ever growing ways? 

 As I mulled these thoughts while packing away Christmas lights and garland, clearing table tops and starting the cleaning tasks which accompany taking down decorations, I saw the disappointing results of a gardening project I began around Thanksgiving.  Every year, I enjoy placing Paperwhite Narcissus bulbs into containers with stones and water.  They put down roots, send up green shoots, and always delight us with fragrant white blooms before Christmas.  Most of the bulbs offered beginning shoots of green. Some grew a few inches.  But none of them bloomed by Christmas, and in general failed to thrive.  Now, only one bulb appears to have the small swelling at the base of its leaves that tells me a flower may eventually unfurl.  I decided to remove the bulbs.  That is when I discovered that they never grew any roots.  Only the ones with more than an inch or two of leaf had grown the plump white roots which could reach down into the water for necessary nutrients. Beginning was all they did; then lacking roots and healthy growth they began to decay.

 That was an epiphany moment for me.  No matter how full I am of possibility and fresh starts, I can never grow if I am not rooted and absorbing the nourishment necessary to flourish. “Feeding myself” is never on a daily to do list.  But I realize I have little to offer others if I don’t choose healthy foods and activity for my body as well as take the time to begin my days with quiet time which feeds and grows my soul.  I love listening to a John Michael Talbot album called “Come to the Quiet” each morning.  As I listen and worship, I am fed.  My roots spread and deepen. I stretch and grow.  I can bloom!

Christmas Is A Place

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Christmas Is A Place

Christmas is a place, like the hearth,

where we all come in from the cold.

Drawn by warmth and promise,

cheered in flickering light,

we get closer to the flame

and each other.

Christmas is a place, like the hearth,

Where we gather

 in anticipation

 of Gift and Giver,

basking around a campfire

 of retold story.

Stoking to keep it hotly burning.

 Christmas is a place, like my heart,

where the Mary-me receives once again

astonishing news and says yes

to giving birth and being born,

to delivering and being delivered,

to remembering.

Sabbath Moment

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Sabbath is not just important to me. It is essential. I participate in Sabbath/Sundays, gathering with others to worship, being with family around the table, and setting times to rest at the beginning of the week. I have learned that I also need what I call Sabbath moments every day, part of my morning and evening rituals, but also those unexpected gifts of quiet awareness that come upon me and gift me me with deep peace.

“The room is quiet. You’re not feeling tired enough to sleep or energetic enough to go out. For the moment there is nowhere else you’d rather go, no one else you’d rather be. You feel at home in your body. You feel at peace in your mind. For no particular reason, you let the palms of your hands come together and close your eyes. Sometimes it is only when you happen to taste a crumb of it that you dimly realize what it is that you’re so hungry for you can hardly bear it. –Frederick Buechner, Wishful Thinking: A Seeker’s ABC