The Gardener Sees

This Gardening heart of mine is finding new ways to be satisfied in this Season of Slow. I may have had to change my activities, but I am finding that God still names who I am in the deep places of my heart.

Have you heard Him call your name?

Have you heard the whisper of 

"Beloved, follow me?"

The British style of Gardening is a fascination to me. So I eagerly wait for new episodes of "Gardeners' World" to appear.  This past week, as the hosts interviewed a most famous gardener, Penelope Hobhouse, she spoke a thought from her younger days that met my way of seeing:

"I was bowled over by suddenly realizing gardening is about beauty and not just being practical." 

Over the years of helping many of my friends in their gardens, there usually came a time when they were surprised at the beauty I saw in the landscape around me. It might have been something they had missed, or something they had counted as a detriment. Even the small "critters" such as the frogs and toads have their own purpose and beauty.

 

 

Say What?

My heart holds fast, when

Others name it plain or drab

I will find beauty.

--BG

And yet, while I have no difficulty finding beauty in gardens, 
I am not so quick to look for the beauty in the rest of my life.



I want to open my eyes
In the drab days
I want to hear music
In the plain songs

For there is a beauty
All around me
Even in the dreary
A singing for the soul
In every darkened day.

 

 "He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end."

Ecclesiastes 3:11 NIV 

 

 

What about your days?
Is there a beauty that you have overlooked?
Is something drab or plain
catching your eye with a hidden song?




Today's #Haiku #Poetry prompts were the words "fast&plain." Once again, Ronovan Hester has been kind enough to open the invitation to participate in the challenge over at his site:
Ronovan Writes



I am linking this week with:
#LMMLinkup 
Meg Weyerbacher, #TeaAndWordTuesday 
Debbie Kitterman, #TuneInThursday 
 

 

The Gardener Must Prune

Hydrangea Arborescens

Have you been smitten by the Hydrangea-Love that seems to be overtaking many gardeners? I know I have, but living here in a cold hilly pocket close to Wisconsin lakes, it takes a gamble to risk most varieties. I wrote about my sweet neighbor and the hydrangeas in her Secret Garden here,

and the summer that was their rescue.

Here in my own garden I grow the native variety,

listed here at the Wisconsin Edu Extension site.

This Hydrangea will be covered in blooms,

every summer,

with only one requirement:

It requires pruning in the spring, because it blooms on

NEW WOOD. 



So, naturally, my thoughts have been 
floating around that word "pruning." 
Will I find a day
with sufficient strength
to be able to prune my hydrangeas this year?


And even more importantly, will I allow
the gentle hand of my Master Gardener
to take his tools
and prune away the parts of my life
that He knows need grooming?



The Gardener Must Prune

Early spring sun glows

Time to prune dead wood, purge, clean

Open space for fresh

--Bettie Gilbert



Sometimes when I am trimming my plants,
I imagine I can hear their whimpers
as I cut away the old,
and strip out the broken branches.
Other times I think I can hear 
a sigh
as I remove an errant branch
that was causing the whole plant
to be misshapen.



What does my Lord hear
from me
as He removes, and shapes,
and prunes my life?
A cry . . .
A whimper . . . 
Or a sigh of acceptance
as a way is cleared
for the new to come.



 "He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful."
John 15:2 NIV 




This #Haiku #Poetry is part of the challenge offered by Ronovan Hester at his site: Ronovan Writes,
where the prompts given this week are "Spring&Fresh."
Pop over for a visit to read so many great Haiku this week!     



Join me also, where I'm linking with:
Meg Weyerbacher, #TeaAndWordTuesday   
Jennifer Dukes Lee, #TellHisStory  
    

    

We Are God's Garden

 

Another corner of my garden--God's Garden--where

He asks me to sit awhile

And listen

I've been pondering the pictures that my Counselor painted for me last week.  It was a word picture to help explain why my stamina has gone into hiding: What if I could picture my energy and stamina as being contained in one of those beverage coolers with a spigot on the bottom and a cap on top, and every time I use my energy for anything, it would flow out through the spigot in the bottom.  But while the outflow is moving steadily along, the inflow at the top of the container is only a slow drip.  The inflow is much slower than the outflow now. 

So where does that leave me when I choose to take on an extra activity, or go for an extra outing? Depleted for days.  The inflow takes longer to replenish than the actual time of the outflow--I cannot depend on my rejuvenation to happen in the same way that it used to, pre-RA/Fibro days.  Depletion is a negative in the bank-book nowadays. And my body screams at me on those negative days. 

But I have come to recognize another voice, quieter, and still, behind the clamoring voice of pain.  It is the voice of my Lord, asking me to ponder another picture.

"Instead of your shame you will have a double portion, And instead of humiliation they will shout for joy over their portion. Therefore they will possess a double portion in their land, Everlasting joy will be theirs."  Isaiah 61:7

Several weeks ago, I wrote a post about this topic of shame Here, but the learning still continues.  As I listened and pondered that verse, questions began swirling to the surface.  I had prayed that verse many times over some very specific situations.  Those situations did not turn out the way I had thought they would.  But even more unthinkable was the possibility that I should consider SHOUTING for joy over my own portion?  HERE?  . . .


"Yes, my daughter.  I am your portion.  And I have given you a double portion of  MY PRESENCE as you have climbed into the soul-deep-places of your heart where I dwell with you, IN THE MIDST OF YOUR PAIN."


There is no fear in love, and there is no shame in weakness, when Christ is pouring His Mercy over us.  His Presence teaches us how to walk and measure our steps to steward the time He has given us on this earth.  Never a step is taken with Him, unless His Heart has a reason.

The Poet Prays

By Grace Noll Crowell

The crushing of a thousand petals, Lord,

Distills one drop of essence from a flower.

Crush me, Oh God, if thereby my song makes

Some tired heart walk with beauty for an hour.

If under bruising pestle I give voice

To the high white rapture of a faint perfume,

And catching it, one weary of paved ways

Turns back a lost path where wood violets bloom.

If I can bring the quick relief of tears

To dry eyes dulled with bitterness for long,

Gather the fragrant petals of my life

And crush them, Lord, then help me sing the song.

I am linking with Jennifer Dukes Lee, and her #Tell His Story crew.


 

Remnants

Awakening

  --by Joy Lenton, 

from her book,  Seeking Solace

In the quiet morning hour

I press my ear to earth

And listen with intent,

Because in the stillness

I can hear soft breath

Of Holy Spirit sighs

Awakening all around

And as the world stirs

It heeds the call to arise,

As sun's slanting rays are

Beckoning us forth

With silent sounds

To surrender our lives

To Love's gentle power

Poured out for these days.

I awoke early this morning with the words of this poem echoing in my heart. I had fallen to sleep with these same words resting in my heart. So I hobbled down the stairs before my feet were ready to tackle the steps, and took my camera out into the sunshine. Would the sunrise still be glowing over the new garden? I had to know.

It was this "Garden of Remnants" that drew me out, because the word "Remnant" has become a sort of theme for me. Last year, a dear friend gave me a journal for my Birthday and wrote this note in the flyleaf, "Maybe the Lord will allow you to journal about His Remnant from end to beginning," with this Scripture reference added:

"I have reserved for myself ... a remnant chosen by grace."  Romans 11:4-5

So when the Lord touched my heart with a poem about "Awakening" I knew that He was speaking something important that needed my listening:

He is awakening the Remnants of Himself in my heart that have lain covered up beneath my service.

Last week the Landscapers came and stripped away the old Butterfly Garden that I wrote about here: "The Garden That Was"  Then this past weekend, the time was urgent for rescuing the remnants saved from the old.  But I was in no condition for the gardening marathon that was required, as I limped around with the bruising and pain of yet another steroid shot given into the locked-up tendons in my foot. So my husband, who is definitely NOT a gardener, gave me the gift of transplanting, and cleaning, and carting, and making this new Garden of Remnants from the strippings of the old. 

As I soaked in the warmth of the sun's rising over this humble little plot, there was a beating in my heart for the new that is really very old.  A remnant from long ago.  As a child, my heart was stirred to be with Jesus and soak in HIS warmth at a very young age.  But as with all of us, life moves on, and duties begin to shape the way that we process our days. I learned early on to be the caregiver before the care became too heavy--that meant I was always on alert, ready to jump and take care of things at a moment's notice.  My Mom required much care as she herself suffered with various sicknesses, some very real, but all of them overburdened by anxiety. There were many years that I thought she demanded more of me than was fair. But actually, she taught me how to give a good gift: I gave her the gift of serving, and in turn learned how to bless others with that same gift.  In the process I laid aside my own heart.  ...  Or so I thought ....

 "But I know whom I have believed, and am convinced that He is able to guard what I have entrusted to him."  
2 Timothy 1:12

 

Nothing is ever really lost when we belong to Jesus.  He is the perfect gatekeeper, and He watches over those childlike places in our hearts, just waiting for the right time to awaken and stir the embers of a passionate love.  Those remnants that I thought were long gone, have been in HIS care, as He has shaped and transformed them into beautiful reflections of HIS loving.  

I cannot see how my loving is meant to take shape and form in this new place.  But one thing I do know:  Jesus awakens the remnants of His Love when He calls the Garden of our hearts ready.  Ready for the new, that is actually very old. 


Thank you, Joy Lenton, for permitting me to copy your beautiful poem here!

I am linking with #TellHisStory  this week.  Won't you check out the wonderful bloggers who are also sharing there?