In The Garden

With the changing of the weather, I have been inspired to plant a fall garden. I personally know nothing about gardening. I do remember as a kid not wanting anything to do with it. I  begged "PLEASE don't make me garden....I would rather do DISHES than help you garden". I usually got my wish but I look back now and think that's weird. I would rather do dishes than to dig in the dirt??? What kind of a kid was I...? A weird one apparently.

So when I returned home a few months ago, I was ready to give it the ol' college try. My parents quickly got on the band wagon. And as it turns out, it has been one of the best things I could have done. The soil wasn't prepared at all. We had to till it up. At first, I tried using a pic ax. I would work SO hard...and then look down and see that I hadn't gotten very far. It got too hot. I wanted to give up. I got cranky. But stubbornness kept me going.

We borrowed a tiller from our neighbor and the job got easier.  We bought top soil and tilled it all together, taking out the weeds and the rocks. There is something so grounding about working IN the ground. To feel the damp soil on my hands and the sun on my back. It was how God meant it to be. God knew that man had to till the soil to survive and so He thought it good to make it enjoyable.

In the mornings I go out and check on things. I water. I pick out the weeds. I prune so that the plants will be more fruitful.  I don't say much to God. I just garden. I have noticed since being home that my quiet times are increasingly quite.  I don't seem to have much to say.  I just dig in the soil and I know that God is with me. He shows me stuff through gardening. He teaches me through the tilling up of the hard soil. He teaches me through the pruning. He teaches me through the gently caring of the baby seedlings pushing their way up through the ground. Against all odds, things still grow. In the garden there are lessons of hope, life, and perseverance. In the garden there are songs of praise as the sun makes it way across the sky. In the garden there is peace. In the garden there is healing. I don't care too much about the harvest. I planted beets for some reason and I hate beets.  But I do care about the journey. And I think God does too.

A Bunch of Weeds

This morning I had a nice long quiet time with the Lord. And I literally mean QUIET time . I barely prayed a word.  I just said “Ok God, speak for your servant is listening”. Of course  at first it was mainly just clutter in my head. Random thoughts. Emails I need to return. But slowly the noise in my head quiets down. I go outside and sit on the porch to drink my coffee. I  get up and wander over to the garden to straighten up a few things. I sit back down and let my eyes  look over the Ponderosa ( what my dad calls their property.)

 The Ponderosa-the place I grew up. The place where I would roam fields for hours, letting my imagination entertain me.  For example, one afternoon, I turned the barn into Laura Ingall’s house and pretended I was on Little House on the Prairie.  Or I would sometimes walk through the wildflowers (aka weeds) and pretend I was Anne  of Green Gables. I smiled at the memories. Thank you Lord that I grew up here. Those were the first words I had really spoken to Him in 10 minutes.

The childhood memories prompt me to take a walk in one of the fields. Oh the weeds…the allergies..the dirt. But no, I go inside, take an allergy pill, and head back outside. To be honest, it’s a bit of a ragamuffin field. It mainly consists of weeds and gravel. Anne of Green Gables would have NEVER chosen that field to walk in to write her deep poetic thoughts.

As I walked, I remembered roaming those fields as a little girl. Full of imagination. Full of wonder and hope for a good future.  I begin to cry. I cried and cried. I didn’t say anything. I just let the Lord listen to my tears. I knew that He knew- and I guess that’s all I needed to know.  I start picking the flowers that were living out among those weeds. I didn’t have a plan initially but before I knew it, I had made a bouquet.  I found a vase and set the arrangement  on the table. Something beautiful actually came out of that tick infested dirt. I cried some more. The Lord doesn’t waste our pain . He makes beauty out of ashes. And He makes flowers out of ragamuffin fields.  My quiet time this morning? I  basically cried over a bunch of weeds. And somehow it was beautifully redeeming.

Have Mercy On Me...a Sinner

I have been having right abdominal pain off and on for a few months. I had been ignoring it for awhile but it has gotten increasingly more painful. I noticed when I tried to exercise hard, it would be get bad. (Maybe I am allergic to exercising too hard).

Last week, it started getting worse so I finally saw my doctor. He did all the tests and it all came back normal. However, last Wednesday night, it got REALLY bad. I could hardly breath. I was at church but decided to go home to rest. By the time I got out to the parking lot, I knew I needed help. Because I am a dork...I call my friend who used to work in the emergency room.....just to make SURE an ER visit was necessary.

I gasp to my friend....do. you.....(argh!!! ouch)...think....gasp....I...should... go to the ER, I can't breath...."

My friend immediately responses...oh my word GO!

I get another friend who has been my friend/sister/every- thing- else- in- between out of choir practice. She rushes out and we get in my car to go. She asks me where I want to go and I tell her to go to the nearby community hospital..

Are you SURE? She asks

I snapped...YES (sorry J)

We go into an overcrowded ER and they initially turn us away because they are so busy. But I am having chest pains so I insist on going in.

I get check in and then I am told to wait. So we waited and waited and waited. The pain kept getting worse. You know how it goes, a lot of people use the ER like a clinic. And about 30 of those folks were ahead of me in line. The Cowboys were playing that night. Most of the crowd in the ER were cheering and laughing at the game. And I was in the corner writhing in pain. My sister/friend did the best that she could do. To tell you the truth, I was getting mad. Every time I heard a laugh or a cheer I got more and more angry. And the pain got more and more worse. (Hum...interesting)

These are the thoughts going in my head:

"Don't they know I REALLY am in pain..."
"I have good insurance for crying out loud"
"They should put me ahead of the line...I am having chest pain"
"I am going to have J take me back to the church and then I am going to call 911 so that I can get immediate help"

After sitting quite awhile,  I turn to my sister/friend and say "well...maybe we should pray". And so we did. It dawned on me that praying had not been my first instinct. So many times in South Asia, I immediately prayed this prayer when trouble arose... "Jesus Christ, Son of the Most High God, have mercy on me....a sinner"

But you know what? This time, I trusted in the  health system.  I felt entitled to good health care. In South Asia, I assumed I might not get good treatment so it was in God that I trusted. But that night last week? It was in America that I trusted. It was in myself that I trusted. I was home for crying out loud.  Home of the brave.  Home of freedom and rights.

 But as we know, the system breaks down. I got so frustrated with waiting, I asked J to take me out of that place. As she turned the wheelchair around, I passed by the the cheering/laughing- Cowboy- fellow- patient fans. I gave them the stink eye as we left. But I also saw the old man sitting alone in the corner. I saw the worried mom who had brought her baby in. I saw the young girl in obvious pain because she had injured her foot. My heart sank. Pain makes us selfish.  "Jesus Christ, Son of the Most High God, have mercy on me....a sinner"

 We finally went to a different ER in another town and I got immediate help. As the morphine was  being pushed through my veins I felt both worse and better at the same time. I felt worse because I was losing control. I felt better because the pain stopped throbbing.  As I drifted off to sleep I prayed, thanking the Lord that He has mercy on us.