First Day Drop Off

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Our granddaughter started kindergarten this fall. There were tears on the first day, but not from the 5 year old. It was her dad who had the sniffles. Understandable, since he has spent all day every day with his little girl for five years. The realization that children grow up can be jolting.

Watching our sweet girl go off to school makes me appreciate the biblical account of Hannah and her sweet boy, Samuel.

According to my Bible Reading Plan for 2023, I’ll be spending the next several weeks in the Old Testament books of 1 and 2 Samuel. It’s a manageable five chapters per week through November. Join me?

Hannah promised God that if she was blessed with a son, she would give the child back to the Lord. The long awaited baby she had fervently prayed for finally arrived. And she kept her end of the deal.

Waiting until Samuel was weaned (and probably potty trained), Hannah had a few years with her baby boy. Then one day she dropped him off at the tabernacle with an elderly priest who had a terrible track record as a parent of two wicked sons.

What did Hannah do next?
She sang.

How I rejoice in the Lord!
How he has blessed me!
Now I have an answer for my enemies,
For the Lord has solved my problem.
How I rejoice!
No one is as holy as the Lord!
There is no other God,
Nor any Rock like our God.
1 Samuel 2:1-2

Surely there were a few sniffles on the 15 mile walk back home.

Hannah would go on to have five more children,
but she didn’t know it that day.
Samuel would become a great prophet of the Lord,
but she didn’t know it that day.
Samuel would later return to his hometown,
but she didn’t know it that day.
Hannah’s story would be recorded in holy scripture,
but she didn’t know it that day.

All Hannah did was
fervently pray,
humbly surrender,
and joyfully sing.

May we be like Hannah,
because there are things we don’t know today.

Cloud of Witnesses

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Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses,
let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles.
And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us,
fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith.
Hebrews 12:1-2

This is what I hope it looks like when I cross over into heaven.
I don’t care too much about pearly gates or streets of gold.

I just want to round third base,
turn toward home,
and see my people
cheering me on.

Noah and Abraham,
Moses and David,
Mary Magdalene and Rahab,
John Wesley and Charles Spurgeon,
Great-great-grandma Harriet,
Barbie and Mom and Dad.

When I look up and fix my eyes on the face of Jesus,
I’ll hit my knees right there on home plate.

Do you see what this means—all these pioneers who blazed the way,
all these veterans cheering us on?
It means we’d better get on with it.
Strip down, start running—and never quit!
No extra spiritual fat, no parasitic sins.
Keep your eyes on Jesus, who both began and finished this race we’re in.
Hebrews 12:1-2, The Message


Sweet Spot

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We have entered the sweet spot.
Our littlest ones are out of diapers
and our oldest ones are still not driving.
We are in a delightful window of time.

Just look at these kiddos.
They give me hope for the future of this world.

The Grandkid Lineup — 2023

Behold! Children are a gift from the Lord.”
Psalm 127:3

Penalty Flag

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PB and I watch a lot of sports on TV. It’s good entertainment and there’s no complicated plot line to follow which makes it possible to read a book while cheering on the team.

We are now entering the part of summer when we have to flip channels back and forth between the late-season days of baseball and the pre-season days of football. This means we will likely miss a home run while tuning in to the Packers and we will probably miss a touchdown pass while watching the Brewers. It just depends on who is holding the remote.

I like sports because there are rules that must be followed in order to play. Consequences of breaking the rules are clearly laid out. Rule-keepers (refs and umps) are in place and given authority.

I appreciate that professional athletes don’t get to make up rules as they go along. In football, if one player breaks a rule, the whole team is penalized. Players can’t beat up the referees if they disagree with the call. I like all that.

My favorite rule in the NFL is a rule against taunting, defined as “when a player embarrasses, mocks, baits, or otherwise commits flagrant acts or remarks towards an opponent. This includes acts such as spiking a football near an opponent after a touchdown, shoving the ball at an opponent, and pointing or waving at an opponent.” If a player is penalized twice in one game for this infraction, that player is tossed out of the game. And issued a $15,450 fine.

I really like that rule.

I think we need that rule in our society.

Paul said, “Let the peace of God rule in your hearts.” Col. 3:15
The Greek word for “rule” is “brabeuo”
which means “act as umpire”.

Paul was a sports fan, too.

Wonky

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I miss this.

A few years ago, in an effort to upscale our home’s curb appeal, I sent for a set of decorative garage door hardware magnets. From the road, the black plastic rectangles, hinges and handles looked like the real deal. There was only one problem.

Teddy is our three year old grandson. He and his sister and his parents stayed with us for a while this summer. He regularly exposed us for the fakers we are by rearranging the magnetic pieces. Children have a way of keeping you honest. And humble.

Teddy and his family recently moved to their own place and the garage door has looked respectable ever since. But I miss the unexpected reminders of the joy of imperfection. I used to smile as I drove in the driveway and saw those handles helter-skelter on the garage door. It prompted me to pray, “Lord, sometimes I put on a fake front and try to look like everything is perfectly in place. Help me to be authentic and real, even if my life looks a little wonky some days.”

“But when the Perfect One comes, the imperfect will pass away.”
1 Cor. 13:10

1001

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I’m not a numbers girl.
Words hold much more allure for me.
But this one got my attention:
1000

This is my 1001st blog post.

It only took 13 years to reach this milestone. I don’t keep track, so it was a surprise when WordPress sent me a congratulatory email last week. It goes to show that if you keep plugging along day after day, month after month, year after year, the output piles up.

Five minutes can be spent working on something trivial or working on something life-changing. Most daily actions evaporate. Some accumulate.

James Clear, author of Atomic Habits

The floors I mopped yesterday, the dinner I made last night, the time I spent watching a baseball game on TV — those will evaporate.

The notes I took on Matthew 18 this morning, the prayers I prayed on the porch, the words put down in my journal — those will accumulate.

Much of what I do on a daily basis doesn’t last much longer than five minutes. (Clean floors and pot roast.) But if I can spend a moment or two, here and there, doing something significant, it adds up over time.

I’m not a numbers girl.
But this one got my attention.
305,509 words posted on this blog.
One at a time.
Accumulation.

My Tree

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Take a trip with me back to 1966.

Lunch dishes were washed, dried and put in the cupboard. Dad went back to the fields. Mom took a basket of clothes out to the clothesline by the garden.

The summer afternoon stretched out before me, the pint-child, still too young for farm labor but old enough for solo adventures. Letting the porch screen door bang, I crossed the yard and took off for the back pasture. The first cutting of hay filled my head with rich, green fragrance. The soft buzz of insects in the tall grass sent vibrations into the warm air. I followed the trickle of the creek to the end of the pasture where my kingdom awaited.

A cottonwood tree had been struck by lightning in a storm years before, splitting it down the middle. Instead of tall branches reaching high into the heavens, the tree stretched long across the ground, offering a little girl a castle, a ship, or a leafy jungle.

The stream kept on feeding the roots of the fractured tree, so it continued to yield a thick canopy of leaves that gave me a cool place to hide, a safe place to be anything I wanted to be.

In July of 2023, PB and I trudged through pastures and climbed over fences to see if my tree was still there after all these years. Behold! Although it looked smaller to me than it did through my seven-year-old eyes, my heart thrilled at the sight. The path of the creek had changed, now flowing directly under the branches instead of around. A chorus of frogs welcomed me back.

I longed to tell my little farm-girl-self that someday she would experience a torrid storm that would strike like lightning and leave a scar. It would break her open and lay her flat. Mothers shouldn’t die of cancer.

Yet, I also wanted to tell her that streams of living water would rush to her roots, giving life despite the deep wound.

Fifty years later, I may not be able to stand perfectly tall and strong, but I am flourishing and my leaf does not wither.

“She is like a tree planted by streams of water,
which yields its fruit in season,
and whose leaf does not wither.”
Psalm 1:3

Pearl Jam

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In 2006, a giant pearl was found by a poor fisherman along the coast of Palawan, a Philippine Island. His anchor jammed up against a large protrusion which turned out to be a seventy-five pound gleaming treasure. He hefted it into his boat and rowed back to his tiny wooden shack. Thinking it would bring him good luck, the fisherman hid his prize catch under his bed. For ten years.

Luck ran out when the wooden hut burned down. The man gave the two-foot long pearl to his aunt because it was too heavy for him to move. She happened to be a tourism officer and the stunning pearl is now on display at the city hall in Puerto Princesa, Philippines.

The pearl is valued at $100 million.
I’d say that’s one pearl of great price.

“The kingdom of God is like a merchant in search of fine pearls, who, on finding one pearl of great value, went and sold all that he had and bought it.” Matt. 13:45-46

Jesus told a whole story in one sentence.
It was about a businessman who sold everything he had
to buy one priceless pearl.

That’s you.
You’re the pearl of great price.
Jesus gave up everything just to have you.

“You are not your own. You were bought at a price.”
1 Corinthians 6:19-20

A 75 lb. pearl is massive, but we ain’t seen nothin’ yet.
Apostle John’s vision of New Jerusalem does indeed include pearly gates.
“The twelve gates were twelve pearls, each gate made of a single pearl.” Rev. 21:21


Oysters must be really big in heaven.

Compost Post

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One spring a farmer friend brought over a load of manure to put on our new garden. We worked that “organic material” into the soil and then planted the seeds. By mid-July, the garden looked incredible — especially the tomato plants. Those Beefsteaks and Big Boys grew as tall as me with huge stems and lush green leaves. By mid-August, our well fertilized plot looked like the Amazon jungle. This is what I was envisioning:

There was only one problem: not one tomato. All that tending, staking, and weeding with nothing to show. No BLTs, no salsa, no spaghetti sauce. How disappointing.

William Shakespeare said,
“Even good things can become bad if they are excessive.”
This applies to cow poop in a garden plot.

In the last post on Matthew 13, the four soils had various results.
One question lingers: What made the good soil “good”?

My Master Gardener friends would tell me it has to do with pH levels and aeration and mulch and rotation. And compost. Compost is essential.

My Master seems to be telling me that good “heart soil” needs the same kind of attention.

What is my heart pH level?
Is the state of my heart acidic? Am I continually critical and judgmental? Or am I too alkaline? Is my heart like hard clay, apathetic and unresponsive?
I need continuous alignment with Jesus!

Is there room for God in my heart?
Do I understand that the occasional pokes and jabs by the Holy Spirit may be creating space for His breath of life, His living water, and His light to get in?
I need the aerating work of the Spirit!

Does my heart appreciate others?
Am I resisting the cover of fellowship with other believers? Do I realize how much I need their influence to keep down the weeds and retain the freshness of my faith?
I need the mulch of community!

Am I afraid to innovate?
Am I settling for doing the same old things in the same old ways? Can I be open to change and embrace switching things up for the sake of new growth?
I need occasional rotation!

And then there’s the compost. My compost pile has coffee grounds and egg shells and carrot peels. In other words, garbage. Could it be that Jesus wants to take all the junk and muck and crud in my life, break it down, and use it to enrich the soil of my heart? What if I looked at troubles and trials as essential fertilizer? Yes, it stinks for a while, but after a season, the results are good soil for the Good Farmer to plant good Seed.

Enough questions!
How about a song?
Oops, that’s a question!

“Purify my heart.
Let every word, every thought, every motive, every intention,
be pleasing in Your sight, oh God.”
Jess Ray

Dirt Poor

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Several years ago, PB and I planted green beans in four raised beds.

Same seeds, same amount of sun and water, same guy planted the seeds on the same day. So much the same, yet the results were so different. It must have been something about the dirt.

Jesus described four kinds of soil in His story called “The Parable of the Sower” in Matthew 13. The same guy planted the same seeds on the same day, yet the results were so different.

The four soils represent four kinds of hearts and how they respond to the seed of the Word.

Some days my heart is a hard path.
The Seed lands on my heart, but can’t penetrate. Pride or bitterness or disappointment tamps down my desire to understand the Word. Or maybe I’ve been walking the same path so long that monotony has made me callous. Perhaps others have stomped on me and a tough, protective shell has developed.

Some days my heart is shallow soil.
The Seed lands on my heart and goes in the thin layer of topsoil. For a short season, the seed of the Word is exciting and enthusiasm runs high. Before long, things heat up and get testy. Because there is rock under the scanty soil, there are no roots to maintain the emotional high and the young growth withers away as quickly as it sprang up.

Some days my heart is thorny ground.
The Seed lands on my heart and goes in the soil with great promise. The Seed even sends roots down. However, the new seedling can’t compete with nagging worries, pleasurable distractions and selfish desire for worldly possessions. The wild overgrowth overtakes and suffocates the crop before there is any lasting fruit.

Some days my heart is good soil.
The Seed lands on my heart, goes in the soil, puts down roots and grows up into a healthy plant. Finally, some good news — a harvest! What made the difference? The condition of the soil.

Lord, break up my hard ground. Make my roots go down deep into the soil of Your marvelous love. Yank out the weeds that threaten to choke my affection for You. Let Your Word land daily on a tender and soft heart, ready to receive and able to produce fruit for Your glory.

“Listen then, if you have ears!” Matthew 13:11