Tests and challenges of the garden

James 1:2-12
2 Consider it a sheer gift, friends, when tests and challenges come at you from all sides. 3 You know that under pressure, your faith-life is forced into the open and shows its true colors. 4 So don't try to get out of anything prematurely. Let it do its work so you become mature and well-developed, not deficient in any way.
5 If you don't know what you're doing, pray to the Father. He loves to help. You'll get his help, and won't be condescended to when you ask for it. 6 Ask boldly, believingly, without a second thought. People who "worry their prayers" are like wind-whipped waves. 7 Don't think you're going to get anything from the Master that way, 8 adrift at sea, keeping all your options open.
9 When down-and-outers get a break, cheer! 10 And when the arrogant rich are brought down to size, cheer! Prosperity is as short-lived as a wildflower, so don't ever count on it. 11 You know that as soon as the sun rises, pouring down its scorching heat, the flower withers. Its petals wilt and, before you know it, that beautiful face is a barren stem. Well, that's a picture of the "prosperous life." At the very moment everyone is looking on in admiration, it fades away to nothing.
12 Anyone who meets a testing challenge head-on and manages to stick it out is mighty fortunate. For such persons loyally in love with God, the reward is life and more life.
(from THE MESSAGE: The Bible in Contemporary Language © 2002 by Eugene H. Peterson. All rights reserved.)

Just never know what a day will bring in the garden. Walked out the door to pick up the paper and found a deer dead at the bottom of my steps. Phoned the authorities, no one available until Tues. Hmmm!! Whats's a girl to do? Well when you have the finest neighbours in the world call them. Quick as a wink the remains are removed and will be carted for a burial, with a plant on top. Blessings abound in this neighbourhood. 

Maturity comes in differing ways in the garden, some blooms produce seeds and then die. Others grow deeper in the ground, roots spreading and reaching higher and higher, for generations to appreciate. Some are short lived with tender leaves and blossoms and a little drought takes them out.There are the biennials that grow the first year, bloom the second year and if the weather is gentle may even take root and continue. There are differing stages of maturity for fruit, taking some as long as seven years to produce a decent crop, others produce it the very first season

My life is like a combination of all those things. Some areas I bloom and die quickly, others I go down deep into the life of God and produce some real character traits that even surprise me. I was down at Whiffin Spit yesterday and watched the wind whipped waves, gorgeous to watch but gone before the camera could even click. It helped me get a perspective on that type of prayer. Quick over and over again, said a little differently but no depth to them, just surface stuff, not touching my heart. When the waves are wind whipped the spray is carried away to be seen no more but when trees are wind whipped  the branches are tossed and broken left lying in the garden to be raked and carried off by some human who has nothing better to do.  

Sometimes the brokenness of my life produces real fruit, an immediate response from the Father. The pruning enhances the life and enriches other's lives. So I ask for courage and encouragement as the winds of life whip my soul and I enter the treasures in the darkness without fear but totally in love with God and trusting Him completely. Sometimes the brokenness seeps into resentment, anger, and resistance to the only One who is able to transform me. Keep me from myself and my thoughts dear God, let me seek your face and your heart, your good and perfect will. 

That is the real triumph--triumphing over sickness, in it; triumphing over death, dying; triumphing over adverse circumstances, in them. Oh, believe me, there is a power that can make us victors in the strife. There are heights to be reached where we can look down and over the way we have come, and sing our song of triumph on this side of Heaven. We can make others regard us as rich, while we are poor, and make many rich in our poverty. Our triumph is to be in it. Christ's triumph was in His humiliation. Possibly our triumph, also, is to be made manifest in what seems to others humiliation. --Margaret Bottome


There are many things in the garden that require triumphing over:

• The gorgeous bear that after 20 years found a way into my back yard and almost destroyed my smaller apple tree, it also ripped off branches on the crab apple tree in the front yard. He has been around for years but so many people leave their garbage cans out and entice him to hang around longer and longer each fall. I don't want to report him as this is his land too.
• The blue berries seldom rescued soon enough from the many varieties of birds, all I would have to do is cover them, however by the time I think about it, they are almost gone. 
• The strawberries, would do much better if I weeded them and watered them regularly, first thing in the day rather then thinking of it in the evening
• The tayberries, my favorite fruit and the jam is delicious. Mulching and watering work well but I seem to graze on them so much by the time I think about jam, hmmm there are not enough left to make a batch. I made freezer jam two years ago but it didn't set quite the same and I prefer the intensive work of certo and boiling them. 
• The raspberries are a great treat and if I didn't graze on them so often I could make jam out of them as well. 
• The weeds, are endless and if I don't keep on top of them they recur in cycles, with some regeneration can go on for 50 years like the thistles. 
• The lilies just keep on giving and I love them and am so grateful for their determination to grow and spread.
• The dahlias are fussier and require regular watering, that takes self discipline on my part.
• The rhododenrons and azealeas really need to be fertilized and watered and as some are under the eves need more than those set out in the garden proper. 
• The tulip magnolia develop a wilt a couple of years back and some branches started dying and now all of sudden it is coming back to life, unexplainable really as I had a professional horticulturist look at it for me and he said that it was dying with a fungus.
• The dogs, two little white ones, where on earth do they make it all. Drop their droppings all over the back yard and I really don't like pooper scooping and my dear heart used to do that, now it is my job I find myself avoiding it until the mess lands on the bottom of my shoes and the annoyance is a reminder that excuses are not acceptable. 
• The racoons as they clamber all over my plum and cherry trees and rip off the leaves as they eat everything they can reach.  If I am fast I can get to the plums first but the cherries are just turning ripe and they are gone overnight. They rip the boards off my fence as it slowly ages and weakens. Most of it has been replaced but they sure know where to find the weakest parts. 
• There are the rats in the compost, lovely to watch but deadly carriers of disease. They come up from the chicken farm and nest in my neighbour's wood shed. I have ways to take care of them which I will not mention.
• The wilt on the tomatoes in the greenhouse, looking lovely one day and the next yukkk!! Now that could be my fault for not watering and fertilizing sufficiently. I'm busy and I really need to renew the soil every year. Taking out the old stuff or doing them in pots with fresh soil.
• The deer are still around but not so much and I have learned over time to plant lots of irises around the roses and they pretty much ignore them now. Sometimes I plant a delicacy they enjoy, or if there are young ones they will often taste test everything so nothing is safe for a few weeks. 
• My greatest triumph is walking around my garden in the evening and enjoying the scents and scenes and  stillness on a day when there is no wind in Sooke, make that about 10 days a year. 

The Gift of the Bulbs

Ecclesiastes 5:18-20(NIV)    ¹⁸ This is what I have observed to be good: that it is appropriate for a person to eat, to drink and to find satisfaction in their toilsome labor under the sun during the few days of life God has given them—for this is their lot. ¹⁹ Moreover, when God gives someone wealth and possessions, and the ability to enjoy them, to accept their lot and be happy in their toil—this is a gift of God. ²⁰ They seldom reflect on the days of their life, because God keeps them occupied with gladness of heart.

1985 David decided to commercial fish with our neighbour. I am sure the work was horrendous and long and the pay not what he was expecting. It was so quiet in the house as he was the last one to leave, 17, graduated and busy with life. One day he came home and said "Here, Mum, here's $100 go buy what ever you wish for your garden". He was my gardening buddy, taking out trees, pruning with a chain saw. Just wholehearted about everything. 

I ordered lily bulbs, all the fancy ones I ever wanted. The unique different kinds; the smelling trumpets, the Asiatics, the spectacular colours. I spent it all and probably more. Then came the planting in the spring, each in a corner grouped together. I was enjoying watching them sprout and trying to remember what I had planted where. Then came that fateful day May 8th or 9th, 1986 depending on whether you count the declared death day or the harvest transplant team coming from Vancouver and David was no longer here  with us. Taken because of drinking and driving, two men dead and one to struggle with the survivor guilt. The two who died were the drinkers, but the other was still part of the tragedy of lives ended too soon. What good can come of this I ask my God? Two kidneys were retrieved and two corneas, 4 lives changed and hopefully they became a blessing to their worlds. Letters from the surgeons indicated that the transplants were a success and from that day to this they have a process in place in Victoria to harvest organs. 

The lilies bloomed that year and continue to grow and bloom all these years later. Many more types and scents and colours. Some as tall as the eves troughs in the new home we moved to  a few years later. Of course the lilies came with us, bulblets from the adults, to waft their scent in this new garden. Reminding me that life continues on, that the pain diminishes but never leaves. 

Over the years the lilies have been bouquets to glorify God, to bless new brides and grooms, to celebrate anniversaries, to strengthen a wounded heart, many gifts to those who struggle with their lives. They make me smile and as the smell wafts over the garden in the evening I thank God for the fragrance of a life with such tender memories.

Then there are the other bulbs, that light up our streets at Christmas. Such a special time as we celebrate the birth of the One who came to a manger. Aging is a process and the dexterity of climbing up and hanging from the porch railings is becoming a hazard. There is another young man who delights in sharing himself with Grandma, Mike, who's heart is full of love and service. "Mike" I say, by text, "Can you give me a hand". The lights are hung and I sit and smile in the evening as they twinkle and flash, to give this one such pleasure in the quiet darkness. 

Oh and did I mention he cleaned the eves troughs of all the maple leaves. So many blessings and so much to be thankful for. 

Sounds of the garden

John 3:8
The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit.” (NIV)
I hear not the rustling grass, my dear heart keeps it well mowed, but the croaking of the lovely green tree frog. Often he hides in my planters watching me weed and wondering about this giant above him. His beautiful green skin seems to glisten with soft shadows and again I see a treasure. He croaks quietly in the day but at night there is a cacophony of sound as together the multitudes croak to their Creator for the gift of finding a mate to continue the generations.
The pileated woodpecker as he searches for bugs under the bark, his holes make a pattern. One wild lilac tree damaged so badly that it needed to be cut off to below the damage. Now it is growing again with fresh vigor. Who knew damage could produce fresh growth. Like the regeneration that comes following forgiveness and repentance.
The Quail call their gathering song and a covey burst over the fence and thirty of them land and run about my garden with such confidence and joy. I stand still at the window and watch, entranced with their togetherness. Until a cat thrusts itself into view and the call for danger is given and they flee to the trees. Sharing the wonder of exploring and turmoil of danger together. Like God putting us in families so we would not be alone, different maybe than what we were born into, but bonding together and supporting one another.
The Towhees jump back and forth under the leaves scratching for grubs and other morsels.Quietly seeking food preferring to stay in the shadows. The quiet, gentle ones seeking no praise, just showing up and doing the work in the quiet place.
The Hummingbirds come and drink the nectar and buzz around me as I work and walk and watch.They soar and delight in the flowers as they come into season, fiercely protecting their own supply. There is one who stays for the winter and he flies up and down the window letting me know his supply of nutrition is getting too low for his liking. Another soars up and down at supper time letting us know that he too likes to eat at a regular time. Watering my garden with a hose one landed in my apple tree and sat there in the full spray of the hose for quite a time reveling in the spray and chattering away to me the whole time. Demanding attention and they fill the air with noise and busyness, colourful and so entertaining, they are the ones who make you laugh.
The sparrows fill up the front porch bird houses with their young and chirp all summer and in the winter they continue to hide on the roofs of the bird houses watching and waiting for the warmth of the Christmas lights.Busy bodies, forever getting in the way, wanting more and more, filling the world with more of themselves.
This year for the first time we had a pair of swallows come and nest, taking on the attacking sparrows and winning the middle nest. My dear heart loves the sparrows, me not so much, preferring the elegant swooping of the swallows as they soar all over the garden, swooping up the pesty insects from the air. The gently loving parents who watch and swoop for their babies but also accomplish an unsuspecting amount of work in their world.
The crows watch for an opportunistic thrust of their beak into an unsuspecting nest to leave the parents bereft of this year's young. Cawing their great pleasure in their carrion ways. These are the bossy, very clever ones, who fill the area with their yelling and destroy the young around them.
The wrens chitter in the back yard with their brown tiny bodies as they flit in the fruit trees and move with such delicate movements. The gentle tiny souls who are often neglected but are such a hidden treasure.
The eagles soar over the Sooke hills often circling past the roof of the house, seeking food for their babies or exploring the explosion of new homes where fields were once their hunting ground. These ones see everything, they notice more than most but do not interfere only taking what they need to survive.
The turkey vultures drift in the wind pockets seeking to devour any less than living thing. Removing all the dead and smelly things from the area, they are ugly and not welcome but so necessary.
Canada Geese fly over the house as has been their habit for generations as this is a fly-way for their ilk. The perfect V formation and the sound of honking and sound of their wings so mystical as they make their way to some water expanse, either fresh or salty. Known the world over as Canada Geese and to us they are a nuisance,  dropping their feces and polluting the land and the water. They mate forever and they protect their goslings to the death. They fly in flocks and will never leave a damaged one behind to suffer alone. Just like us I think, some parts good and others not so good.
The sound of the elementary school down the road as the children laugh and shriek with joy and other emotions. The sound of O Canada as they sing it at the opening of classes, it wafts into my garden and reminds me how precious this country is to me.What a blessing that children in our country can grow up unafraid and privileged to attend school. Many do not appreciate the gift that is theirs, "freedom.'
The sound I hear in my heart is gratitude for the many sounds in my garden, how diverse, how luxurious, how joyous. Our great and wonderful Creator has made all these things for us to enjoy and delight in.

Prayer and Faith uncovered

Without faith there can be no prayer, no matter how great our helplessness may be. Helplessness united with faith produces prayer. Without faith our helplessness would only be a vain cry of distress in the night. Ole Kristian O. Hallesby
As I rake the leaves from the smaller maples they are endless, yellow, brown and tinged with red, clinging now to the grass with a tenacity that surprises. They have fallen dying in the empty ground with just the green grass surrounding them. Now I want to move them to the garden beds to cover the lilies and raspberry and tayberry canes, the rhododendrons and azaleas. Sticking to the blades of grass they resist my efforts, but they are dead or at least dying. Stuck from the night before frost, wet from the rain, the effort required is causing me to break into a sweat. I will move you, I will change your position, I will load you into the wheelbarrow and put you where I want you to go. How can  dead things have so  much resistance, I wonder and then I see myself standing dead in my sins resisting all efforts of a loving God to save me, change me, transform me.
I am helpless to change myself no matter how hard I work at it. I believe that God will do His work through me, in me and use me. My faith is to pursue this God who shows me daily that He loves me. To keep raking the dead things up from my life into His hands that are like a giant wheelbarrow, who knows what I need and where I should go. Surrender to the will of the One who has plans for me each and every day. Who has planned the good works He wants me to do, to give up my rights to myself and to serve the King of Kings.
I cannot change my dear heart and help him understand the consequences of unsafe behaviour, his understanding is dying and the logical consequences are removed from his comprehension. His sweetness is still there, the gentle look, the yes of course I will do it. And then no redirection of the behaviour. No change, just the sweet agreement to do as he was asked and nothing. The helplessness as he eats so quickly, choking and swallowing with difficulty. My fear rushes to my throat, and I try again to calmly suggest he have a drink and slow down. Of course he agrees and continues to bolt his meal. What is the good work in this I ask the Lord, how can I continue to rake and rake the dead and dying leaves.
Waiting for the surgeon's appointment next month, praying that the surgery will be done and more importantly be successful this time. Already two surgeons have said they cannot repair his throat. This third one will be the final answer, who knows what that will be. So I wait helpless and praying with faith.
Ephesians 2:8-10 For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— ⁹ not by works, so that no one can boast. ¹⁰ For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.

Land of Wonder

I wonder:
              :what the day would look like starting with gratitude as I rise from my bed
              :what each hour would look like if I was to encourage others
              :what my heart will look like if I would look deep inside and see the truth
              :what God thinks about my plans for this day
              :what the day will do to change me.
              :why that deer stopped eating to watch me take a picture of her
              :why those little wrens flew into my sunroom to spend some time with me
              :why the trip around my garden to photograph the fauna was so moving
              :why there are so many good friends in my life
              :who will be sharing each new adventure with me
              :where the year will take life as we know it now
              :where the dementia will take my wonderful man
              :where joy will show it's sparkling face
              :how the strength will be there when needed
              :how to grieve the losses without losing heart
              :how to show up and participate
              :how to keep him safe without controlling
              :how to ask for help and accept that is needed
              :how to manage the daily routines and do it all
              :how to love and love and love some more
              :when to let go and not hold on
              :
Definition of wonder.

1 a : a cause of astonishment or admiration : b: miracle

2: the quality of exciting amazed admiration

3 a : rapt attention or astonishment at something awesomely mysterious or new to one's experience b : a feeling of doubt or uncertainty

The Strengthening for the Journey

I am an instrument for His use; perhaps to bear burdens, as of pain, sorrow, or shame; perhaps to convey messages, writing, speaking, conversing; perhaps simply to reflect light, showing His mind in the commonest of all daily rounds. In only one way can I truly do anything of these; in the way of inner harmony with Him, and peace and joy in Him.   H. C. G. Moule
As I watch the leaves fall down and gently cover the earth I am reminded that seasons are present in the garden as well as in life. The trees are almost naked with their elegant branches raised to worship the creator of all. They too lift up holy hands in worship. They  work so hard all summer growing, bearing fruit or flowers to bless us all than the harvest, then the waiting for the winter winds and snow to blow the extra weight off. Now naked solitary a stark reminder that the winter is heading here and that storms will arrive. Not just rain (we are on the West Coast) but winds of a gale force.
 My dear heart is enduring those winds daily with unremitting headaches, neck and arm pain, frontal temporal dementia, and severe swallowing issues. He stands under the weight with solitary grace, enduring what others have fought to end, gracious and quiet, lying in his chair with the little white dogs on his lap, the TV on Oasis and resting in the arms of Jesus.
We can treasure the good moments, when he is able to tell one of his wonderful stories of fishing, or the Christmas geese. The laughter returns and the eye contact is there and love fills the air. These are less and less and the absence is not so obvious to those who are just getting to know him. The routine of our lives settling in to a steady quiet pace.
My memories are so different from those new in our lives. No more the random excursions of adventure, trips taken with no planning, house full of people, fish and crab served endlessly to those guests, given to those in need. The laughter, the stories the serving others, the "Oh by the way there will be 10 people for supper tonight and I'll cook the salmon", all stilled and almost forgotten except in memory.
This will be the first Christmas that Bethlehem Walk at our church will not be seeing Peter the fisherman with his smoked salmon in his booth. Inviting all to share in the bounty of his life, stories to tell and laughter and welcome. I too will spend it home with the fisherman. Praying for the opening of the eyes of those visiting Bethlehem to see and know the Saviour, Jesus Christ our living Lord.

The Journey of suffering

Some people get to sail through life and I am so glad that they have a gentle journey. We have not found our lives surrounded by the gentle stuff. I could complain but if I were to be completely honest I would say without the tough stuff I would not have learned how to soften my tongue and my heart. I would not have fallen in love with Jesus the way I do today. What has been uncovered is the treasures in the darkness. 

The presence of God while sitting by my son as he lay dying at 18. The absolute certainty that God is in control and that He numbered our days before we were even born. As I sat there in ICU waiting and wondering the Lord revealed the truth of  Psalm 139: 13 For you created my inmost being;    you knit me together in my mother’s womb. 

¹⁴ I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; 
   your works are wonderful, 
   I know that full well. 
¹⁵ My frame was not hidden from you 
   when I was made in the secret place, 
   when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. 
¹⁶ Your eyes saw my unformed body; 
   all the days ordained for me were written in your book 
   before one of them came to be. 
¹⁷ How precious to me are your thoughts,^[a] God! 
   How vast is the sum of them! 
¹⁸ Were I to count them, 
   they would outnumber the grains of sand— 
   when I awake, I am still with you.

Somehow the truth of the Word of God means less to me when life is going well and then comes the worst time of my life and the presence of God speaks His word to my heart and it removes the fear and the anxiousness and just fills me with His peace. 

God promises abundant life and then our youngest son is removed from this life. 
What is that about God? I have learned to leave the why's to God and instead ask Him what do you want me learn through this. Grief is hard work and sneaks up when you least expect it. Like grocery shopping and realizing that never again will I need to buy his favorite cereal. At the very season of David's dying I was given a grandson to treasure. 
What to do now God, live in grief for all my days or celebrate his life and share with others the reality of joy in the presence of incredible grief. 
It started with a dream, to give a cup at his high school in his memory, that says "I am my brother's keeper." 25 years ago now and the cup is a treasure at the high school. The David Patterson Memorial Cup. Encouraging our young folk to love each other, to care for one another here at home and it has spread to those in other continents. Who but God could have ever imagined the far reaching consequences of a grieving mother's dream.