When Did Summer Grow Old?

Every year, sometime around the end of July, it always surprises me to suddenly realize the days are once more getting shorter. You would think that since I get up at the same time everyday – seven days a week – and head to the barn at the same time everyday that I would notice the gradual change, but every year there is always that quiet, dark, morning when I suddenly notice how dark it is and that the early mornings are no longer lit with the grey light of pre-dawn. For me that moment always marks the beginning of the end of summer; even though quite often it feels as though summer has just begun.

By mid-August, I am flooded with memories of back-to-school days – both my own and those of my children – and I am once again reminded that summer is passing. I have always thought this remembrance of school days and summer’s end was brought to mind by the overflow of school supplies that flood the stores and the ‘back-to-school’ sale ads that inundate me wherever I look, but perhaps my memories are also integrated with the changes in the season as summer grows old and fall hints that it may soon make an appearance.

Yesterday I took a short morning walk and thanked the Lord for a day to move at a slightly slower pace. As I was enjoying the sights, sounds, and smells of an early summer morning, I realized that there is something almost undetectable in the look of the land, the position of the sun, and even in the faint smells that fill the air that are reminiscent of the subtle passing of summer. Summer is growing old and its passing reminds me that although the seasons repeat themselves and are reborn every year, no two are ever exactly the same. Each passing year brings its own trials and sweet memories as the seasons of our lives pass almost as quickly as the seasons of the year. There will always be days that responsibilities demand we keep up with the hectic pace of this world, but as summer draws to an end, I am reminded once more to live fully in each season, pausing as often as I can to enjoy each moment fully and fill them with thanksgiving and praise knowing that summer is growing old and I will not pass this way again.

When Did Summer Grow Old?

The trees are fully clothed,
The grass is lush and green,
The flowers are in full array,
They make a lovely scene

Sweet scent of rose fills the air.
The garden shares its wealth.
Fluffy clouds fill big blue skies.
Summer seems in perfect health.

But walking this quiet morning,
I’m suddenly saddened to hear,
“Summer is growing old”
The breeze whispers in my ear.

Her days are growing shorter,
Though lovely despite her age.
Her demise has been foretold;
Summer is now a sage

When exactly did she age?
I ask myself in sad dismay
Pausing to mournfully admit
I know she will soon slip away.

I ponder how I spent her youth?
Did I treasure her young days?
Was I grateful for the sunshine
And each new grand display?

I think about the many days
I rushed so quickly through,
But I’m thankful to remember
I stopped to enjoy a few.

As summer grows old unnoticed,
Seasons of life pass quickly away.
I’m reminded to be thankful
And enjoy each passing day.

Remembering Justin – remembering and reposting

I’m reposting from the archives today but as I read over this post, I am again awed by how quickly time passes. Today would have been Justin’s twenty-seventh birthday! I am thinking about him today and remembering all the life lessons, heartache, and joy his life brought mine and praying that as my editor and I work on the final version of my book My Journey with Justin it will someday be an encouragement and a blessing to someone else.

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I sit on the grass and arrange the flowers in the vase, their bright artificial color making a pretty display. I pull green runners of grass away from the stones and look in awe at the date carved in granite – August 7, 1986. Have 25 years really passed since I gave birth to a beautiful, red headed, little baby boy?

I think back, not to the day of his birth, but to a bright summer day 20 years ago. We celebrated that day he was five – presents for Justin and his brothers, a cake with cars, crayons and school supplies for our new venture into homeschooling, and new shoes he didn’t think he needed.

Who needs shoes when the summer days are warm and the green grass feels soft to bare feet? It was a year of abundance – abundant rain, abundant grass, abundant joy.

So much can change in a year. One year later we brought him home from the hospital with a day pass to spend his birthday at home. We wheeled him into his room in a wheelchair on loan from the hospital hoping the sight of his room would somehow trigger a reaction – a smile, perhaps an attempt to communicate. Nothing. His Daddy and I sat in his room and cried the first bitter tears of reality. The bright, comical, talkative, little boy was forever changed. There were no pictures, no cake, only presents that we opened for him – toys we hoped he might someday hold- toys that would be put away never to be used. The only ray of joy in that bitter year was the addition of a beautiful little girl born just weeks before his sixth birthday in the midst of that long hospital stay and lost summer.

Today as I pull grass runners and uncover the gray stone, I find I am just as awed at the second date carved in the rock – March 3, 2004. Seven years have passed since he left our earthly home. I grieved that night of his death, just as I grieved that day when we brought him home for his birthday – that deep, heart wrenching grief that hurts the chest and steals the breath.

I grieve again today, but the hurt is not so deep because I am reminded of the life that forever changed mine. His passing, both times, brought pain, but his presence – especially the child that would never walk or talk again – taught me the truth about joy. God used his life to teach me how to be abundantly happy despite circumstance; to be truly joyful – that dance in the kitchen gladness that overflows into praise. And so, today I take flowers and remember Justin and joy!

Allured by Grace

Recently I was reading in the book of Hosea. I always find it amazing that I can read a story that I’ve read many times before and suddenly see it in a different light – in gospel light.

In the second chapter there is the description of the calamities that befall a harlot – the harlot Gomer whom Hosea took as a wife – and the Lord uses this visual picture to warn the people of the calamities that will befall Israel…and his redeeming love for her. But as I was reading, verse 14 of the second chapter caught my attention, “Therefore, behold, I will allure her, and bring her into the wilderness, and speak comfortably unto her.”

I will allure her… When I first read this story, I thought about God pursuing the sinful and rebellious and his redemption of the unworthy, just as Hosea goes and redeems Gomer and brings her back so he can once more be a husband to his adulteress wife. But allure is not the same as pursuit. To allure something or someone is to attract them to you. Here in this verse, God is not pursuing the wicked or tracking them down to bring them back to Him, he is simply revealing himself and the appeal of his unmerited grace becomes irresistible – it is alluring.

The story of Hosea is a warning of pending judgment on a rebellious nation but it is also a beautiful story of mercy and the appeal of unmerited grace, and yet, I think we often fail to see the real beauty of grace in this story because we do not relate to Gomer or identify with her. It is so easy to read of God’s just punishments poured out on a wicked nation and those who practiced those things that scripture calls abominations and see them as wicked, rebellious, and wayward, and we would be right – they are; but if we could see how often our own hearts seek to satisfy, gratify, and please self – if we could see the depth of our own sin and our love for other things and self pleasure more than God (even in our pursuit of God) we would see that we too are the harlot. We are retched, horrible, sinners worthy of death and yet we are pridefully self-righteous and think that because of the good we do, we are worthy of grace – we may not want to believe we think that, but the truth is… we do.  We are not touched and transformed by the gospel story of mercy, grace, and redemption because we do not think we need redemption that badly. We identify with the prophet in this story if we identify with anyone at all, but certainly not with the harlot. We are just too good to be the harlot.

Henry Scougal wrote a small book when he was only 27 years old titled The Life of God in the Soul of Man this book had a strong influence on many great men of God including George Whitefield and Charles Wesley. John Piper quotes Henry Scougal in his book The Pleasures of God. The quote used by John Piper was this, “The worth and excellency of a soul is to be measured by the object of its love.”

When reading this quote my first thought is, of course, that the Lord is the object of my soul’s affections, but the more I looked inside my heart and judged it by its actions, I realized that most often self is the object of my affections. Most of the time my heart seeks to satisfy, gratify, and please itself even in its affections for God and others.

Of course there is a desire in my heart to do good, and like Paul, there seems to constantly be an inward war raging between my desires and my nature, but the worth and excellence of my soul cannot be assessed just by what it wills, but rather by what it loves. John Piper says, “The true dimensions of a soul are seen in its delights. Not what we dutifully will but what we passionately want reveals our excellence or evil.” John Piper focuses the first six chapters of his book The Pleasures of God on the attributes and pleasures of God. This is an excellent book and one I highly recommend, but we do not need to read John’s book to discover the attributes God, we can go to the source John used – scripture. Just as affections for others grow – particularly young lovers – as they learn and discover more about each other, so will our affections for the omnipotent, omnipresent, preeminent God grow as we focus our thoughts on the knowledge of him.

“The worth and excellency of a soul is to be measured by the object of its love.” Oh how I want to say that God is the sole object of my deepest affections! But while my heart battles within to understand and know what is the true object of its love, while I am trying to will my heart to love, while I seek to know all I can about a God – and a love – I cannot comprehend; all the while, I am being allured by irresistible grace. He pursues us and redeems us, and just a glimpse of His grace can captivate our hearts and we find He is … at least for the moment … truly the only object of our affections because we are always the object of His.

Daily Distractions

Two weeks ago, work finally slowed down and I have enjoyed several days off. The first several days I was battling a bad cold and so it was nice to have most of the week off and time to rest and recuperate. I’ve been looking forward to work slowing down some and I was trying to keep my ‘to do’ list short so I would have plenty of time to journal, blog, work on an article and my book edits, and maybe even have some time to visit and catch up with friends. I was also eagerly anticipating spending my early mornings taking long, quiet, walks and doing a little extra Bible reading. I would have time to relax and truly enjoy all the beauty and wonder of summer – or so I thought.

But Saturday, as a second week without much work was drawing to a close, I was again wondering where the week went. I did send a few long overdue letters and cards to a couple of distant friends and a letter of encouragement to my kids, but there are still letters and cards that remain unsent. I had a few phone conversations with close friends and family members and spent one day with dear friends, but more than one promised lunch date with other close friends remains undone and unplanned. Gone were the grandioso plans to make great strides on my book edits – revisions were made and sent back to my editor but not much faster than the pace I’ve managed to maintain even while working. Early mornings were given to extra chores instead of long walks while blog posts and journal entries were squeezed around yard, garden, barn, and household tasks with only a little more time and attention than they are given when I am working. I rested a little more, wrote a less than I planned, and daily struggled with a barrage of distractions that bartered for my time. There always seems to be countless household tasks that go unnoticed and undone for days, weeks, and even months at a time that I somehow feel must be done when I am off. I often remind myself that in the grand scheme of things they matter little, but some of them I conquered anyway while others remained undone and the days came and went and the weeks passed quickly by.

During these past weeks I realized there will always be a struggle to do those things my heart yearns to do. Quite often I must decide what the best use of every precious moment is and many times the decision will be between what is good and what is better. I am sure there will always be a battle against daily distractions and assumed responsibilities whether they are related to work and financial obligations or the everyday tasks of running a household.

Saturday I again welcomed the opportunity to carry the mail and this week there are other welcomed opportunities to earn the income I need. My daily battle to stay quietly content and rest peacefully knowing God is in control is a surprise even to myself. I struggle not to complain when work combined with the daily responsibilities of my household make for long days and short nights and many times I must be determined to do what lays heavy on my heart even when I am weary. But when work allows a reprieve, I worry if there will be enough income to outlast the month. Instead of rejoicing that I finally have the time to do those things I love to do, I battle against a barrage of daily distractions and complain that there is never enough time. I like to think it would be easier to write without the burden of work – and perhaps it would – but eliminating outside work and the responsibility of earning an income does not completely eliminate the daily distractions that can steal my time and leave me disappointed and discouraged at what I’ve really accomplished.

My real battle isn’t work, it is an inner conflict between what I know to be true and a doubtful self that is never satisfied with the abundance it is given but always frets over both time and money. How I long for a heart that could forever conquer self and truly rest in the knowledge that God is sovereign and His provision is always enough. He provides exactly what I need in both time and money – each in season and in perfect balance. So once again, as I must do over and over, I remind myself to rejoice and be glad for God is glorious and sovereign and I am abundantly blessed.

Exhort One Another

Peter gave himself up for lost, and shed big tears; but his sobs were overheard by some friendly sparrows, who flew to him in great excitement and implored him to exert himself. ~ The Tale of Peter Rabbit by Beatrix Potter

When my children were little they loved the stories of Beatrix Potter. One of my sons especially loved the beautiful language used by Beatrix Potter in her stories and often used her vocabulary. This was one of his favorite passages and he would implore his siblings to exert themselves when he thought they needed some encouragement while learning to ride a bike or swim or struggle through some other difficult task.

I often used it too, especially when my children were learning to swim. As long as they were kicking and paddling they could keep themselves moving and keep their head above the water, but as soon as they began to tire and quit struggling against the water, they began to sink. Of course they also learned to float, but while floating gave them a chance to catch their breath and regain their strength, it did not move them through the water, so I would watch and cheer them on imploring them to exert themselves and keep kicking and keep paddling.

Today all my children are grown and they no longer struggle with childhood challenges, but as I watch them trying to make their way I often want to implore them to exert themselves as they struggle with sin, temptations, and the difficulties of this world. Unfortunately, life is much like a long swim and while we may need those seasons in which to float and catch our breath, we must keep struggling or we may eventually sink.

The writer of Hebrews urges us to encourage one another in much the same way the friendly sparrows encouraged Peter when he gave himself up for lost. “But exhort one another daily, while it is called Today; lest any of you be hardened through the deceitfulness of sin.” ~ Hebrews 3:13

Thinking about how to continue to encourage my children in their struggles against their weaknesses and how to inspire them, I thought about the apostle Paul. Paul viewed the churches he helped establish and the people in them as spiritual children and he wrote to them to instruct and encourage them. Although he spent hours preaching and teaching, his letters to the churches were able to extend beyond the reach of his voice.

When my children were younger I tried to take time to talk with them often and while I didn’t always know their struggles or understand the challenges they faced, I tried to encourage them to do the right things and make wise decisions. Although they are now young adults, I still try to take time to talk to them and encourage them, but I don’t always say all that is on my heart. It can be difficult to parent adult children. I no longer want to chide them or correct them, but I don’t want those words of exhortation to remain unspoken simply because they are sometimes difficult to say.

Occasionally, I have sent group emails to my children when I needed to communicate something to all of them or when I want to encourage them and remind them I am praying for them, but I have been thinking that perhaps I do not write to them and encourage them often enough – I think about encouraging them and sharing things I have discovered with them far more often than I actually do. We live in a time when communication is easier and quicker than ever before in history, so shouldn’t we take advantage of the technology available at our fingertips? Letters have long been a means of communication between family and friends and there are many famous examples of letters of exhortation great men of God have written to their children or their spiritual children. Emails may be a little more time consuming and inconvenient than a text, but like a letter, they allow you to choose your words carefully and they can be read and reread. We may not write with the excellence and wisdom of those great men before us, and emails/letters do take time and careful thought, but what is the sacrifice of a little time if they can encourage a grown child, a brother, a sister, or a dear friend? 

While I wish I could spare my children many of the trials they may encounter as adults and the struggles with self and sin that they may face, I know that it is the difficult things in life that mold us and shape us. So I hope that I can encourage them to keep kicking and keep paddling when life is difficult and when they feel like giving up or think they have failed, I hope that I can always implore them to exert themselves. And it is my continual prayer that I can exhort them and encourage them lest any of them be hardened through the deceitfulness of sin.

Grace for the Graceless

It had been a long day when I finally pulled into the garage. Training on the new route had taken at least two hours longer than I anticipated, but I was strangely undisturbed by the delay and the day was not unpleasant despite the anger and frustration expressed by a colleague who felt she had been wronged by her superior. I had prayed for patience and grace on the way to work that morning and I felt blessed with a peace and patience that was beyond my own abilities.

On the way home I had thought about the situation in which I found myself that day. Recent route changes had left the colleague with whom I had worked that day in a much better job position; however, it was at the unfortunate expense of another, and while she was grateful for the blessings that had come her way and felt bad for her co-worker who had lost a potential position, she had no grace to offer when her new position was more difficult than she had anticipated. She felt mistreated and would not even consider the possibility that her superior had made some changes with her best interest in mind.

One of the comments made that day when I suggested that perhaps she should give her superior the benefit of the doubt was, “why should I cut him slack when he’s not going to cut me any?”  I thought about that for a moment. It is easy to offer grace to those we feel deserve it or to those who offer us grace in return, but perhaps grace and forgiveness go together when we must offer understanding, compassion, and a helping hand to someone who we feel has given us nothing but grief when they had the opportunity to extend grace. Sometimes perhaps we are blinded to the grace and goodwill they have offered.

As I traveled home that day, I marveled at the extra measure of patience I had been given to accommodate, tolerate, and even enjoy the company of one who had no grace to offer another, and I realized that God has grace for the graceless as well as the wounded and wronged.

Life is often unfair and most of us have deep empathy for those whom we feel have been treated unjustly. We easily offer them compassion because most of us feel that we also have been the victim of injustice and have felt the weight of life’s unfairness at some time or another. And it is so easy to give grace to those who have given us grace – those who have been patient with us and forgiven our selfish deeds and unintentional wrongs.

But how do we treat those who have no grace to offer?  How do we treat those who are prideful and feel they are never wrong – or never admit or remember when they have needed unmerited favor and forgiveness? How do we treat those who have a victim mentality and always feel they have been treated unfairly and never consider that they may have also wronged others; those who have built a selfish shield around themselves that must always protect self and is never willing to accommodate or forgive for fear they will be wronged?

Can we see past a selfish, sinful, heart – past our own selfish, sinful, heart – to see a human heart? Can we offer grace to the graceless; to those who may never give grace in return? We don’t offer grace because we of what we might receive or what might be extended to others; we offer grace because we’ve already been given that unmerited favor that we will never earn nor can never return. We offer grace because we’ve already been given saving grace; we’ve been given grace beyond measure. Should we have grace for the graceless? Most definitely!

Long Days and Short Nights

Last night I stepped outside and faced the wind. It had been another long day of work followed by weeding in the garden, helping with the goats and working outside until dusk. Night was falling when I finally stepped out on the porch to enjoy just a few minutes of quiet before heading to bed. The recent rains have been a welcome relief from the long drought and the damp air was cool against my face. It carried the heavy scent of rain and I breathed deeply, but as I stood there in the growing darkness, I found myself struggling to maintain my composure. Physical exhaustion had dampened my spirits and threatened to overwhelm me.

This morning I awoke long before dawn to start another long work day. I look in the mirror and speculate as to whether droopy eyelids and new wrinkles are from fatigue or if they have become permanent fissures on my face. I wonder if too many short nights have aged me beyond my years. Long days and short nights have left me exhausted and I ask myself what my long hours have accomplished. I look at the calendar… June 22…it has been more than three weeks since I last wrote a blog post and two months since I penned an article. Where has the month gone?

I have battled the extreme weather of the Texas Panhandle to get my garden planted and growing; there have been flower beds to weed, chicks to raise, goats to tend, a large yard to water and mow, and countless other chores to squeeze in and around long work days.  In addition to the usual chores of summer, I also managed to fit in a four day trip to Colorado with my young adult kids. The trip was lots of fun but not at all restful as we tried to cram as much as possible into a short trip. I got home at 11:30 pm and in bed just before 1:00 am on Sunday night to catch a few hours of sleep before plunging into a long six day work week.

Now the week is drawing to a close and I am tired and frustrated because I have not had the opportunity to capture my jumbled thoughts and sort them out as I write them down. I am thankful for my job and I remind myself over and over how blessed I am to have the opportunity as a substitute carrier to work as much as I do. I am grateful for the opportunity to earn the income I need to maintain my household, but this week I found myself bemoaning the fact that I have to work and blaming my long work hours for preventing me from writing.

While I was driving and complaining to myself, a question formed in my mind almost as though someone asked me audibly, “Why do you write?” and the answer came almost as quickly as the question, “It is a form of worship.” Of course writing is many other things as well; it is a way to sort through thoughts and feelings and a way to record and process life events and the daily issues that we all face; but it is also a way in which I express my gratitude for the people, things, and events in my life and the abundant grace that I have been given. My life would be for naught were it not for my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, and He works all things in my life for my good and His glory – and I simply must tell of His wonderful goodness and grace.

Yes, it would be much easier to write if I did not have to work, but I must ask myself if I would- if I do – only worship Him when it is easy. Perhaps sometimes we just have to pull up our boot straps and carry on despite distractions and fatigue.  Our bodies do need rest but as age and time begin to leave their marks on my life, I remember that this place and this body are only temporary and I have only one life to live in service to my Lord. And so despite long days and short nights, I write to give Him glory. I praise Him even when life seems hard and I worship even when I’m weary.

Lest We Forget

My phone chimes and the words, “I’m fine” pop up and I breathe a sigh of relief.
“I can’t call out, but I’m OK” reaffirm the message from my son in Oklahoma. That was 13 days ago – almost two weeks. A few days later he told me of his experience and sent a video of the twister he witnessed as it tore through Moore.

That Monday I watched and listened with numb emotion as the news reported the devastation. I tried to imagine the fear that gripped the hearts of parents as they waited to be reunited with children making their way out of the rubble that was once their school and the horror and grief of those whose children did not emerge. I hurt for them as I tried to imagine their loss, but honestly, I knew I couldn’t comprehend the depth of their pain. I had not suffered loss and all I really felt was relief.

This week, while I was talking to my son, a casual reference to the destruction and clean-up that still remain for the people in Oklahoma made me suddenly realize how quickly I had forgotten what had happened to those families directly impacted by the tornado less than two weeks ago – families who were again hit by storms last night. Storms come and go and are quickly forgotten by most of us – unless you’re the one whose home is gone or the one who will never hold their precious child again.

How quickly we forget the hurting. I remember the day after my husband’s funeral watching cars pass on the county road in front of our house and thinking how odd it was that people were going to work and resuming life as usual while my life seemed stuck, frozen in a state of shock, empty and unreal. I think of the family in Lubbock who recently lost a son. They may be just beginning to feel pain as the numbness wears off and reality begins to set in.

The tornado in Oklahoma reminded me of Christ’s words in Matthew 5:45, “for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and the unjust.” I know from my own experience that God uses circumstances – both good and bad – to open our eyes to the true conditions of our hearts and to draw us to himself, and I know He is still at work in the lives of those families and individuals in Oklahoma. But when I look at the context of this passage it is found in the middle of a message on how we are to love our enemies. (verses 43 -47) If we are to do good to those who hate us and pray for those who spitefully use and persecute us, how are we to treat those to whom we have no animosity – those caught in the midst of the rain…in the midst of the storm? How should we treat those who are hurting and those who are trying to rebuild? How do we treat those who are still trying to grasp the reality of a tragic loss?

Sometimes we can do nothing more than pray for those we don’t know and can’t reach, but sometimes the best thing we can do for those we know are still hurting, those whose lives are still numb, those still trying to rebuild, those still trying to find ‘normal’ and still trying to find joy, is let them know we haven’t forgotten.

Yesterday, Oklahoma was once again hit by storms. Let us not forget the people there and others we know who are suffering loss.

Lord, give us compassion for the hurting and a heart that is tender lest we forget.

Scars

As I carry the mail to rural residents in the Texas Panhandle, I spend several hours in my car traveling many miles on countless dirt and county roads. While I travel, I enjoy listening to Christian radio stations and I have heard many good sermons from a variety of preachers. This has been a blessed season of my life to soak in the word of God and to listen as others expound on the word. Recently I heard a message on the book of Jonah. Unfortunately, I don’t remember the preacher or even the station since I listen to several stations depending on the reception in the area.

Anyway, this pastor was speculating on whether it was possible that Jonah carried scars from his encounter in the belly of the whale and that perhaps those scars made his message of God’s coming judgment and cry for repentance to the city of Nineveh even more believable. Even if he carried no outward scars, his testimony of God’s justice and punishment, his own repentance and God’s mighty hand of salvation would have given credibility to his message. Jonah’s life conveyed evidence of both God’s judgment and His salvation.

As I listened, I began to think about those whose scars are a testimony to the world of God’s goodness. Some people have visible scars that bare obvious evidence of God’s grace, mercy, and restoration in their lives; their scars like marred wood add beauty to their life and their testimony. Some have been rescued from sin and their scars are a banner they wear as a testimony to God’s salvation. Some have been redeemed and restored through circumstances and though their scars may not be as visual they cannot hide nor squelch the joyous light that radiates from them as they loudly proclaim their testimony and praise to the God of their salvation. Sometimes God’s restoration is only a restoration of joy and peace in the midst of difficult situations and it leaves the world puzzled and confused because there is no doubt that wounds have been bound and healed and no longer have any crippling power despite difficult circumstances.

And yet there are others who have also received a weighty dose of grace – those who have been saved from the death sentence of sin and whose self-inflicted wounds have been bandaged and healed – who never bare their scars but keep them covered and hidden as though they don’t exist. They may – I may – should the moment call for testimony – hold out to the world a finger that has had a splinter removed and boast of the Band-Aid there, but we deceive ourselves when we hide the wide scars of deep chest wounds. We are self-righteous Pharisees unwilling to admit that we have wounded and have been wounded by covetousness, gossip, adultery, disobedience, fornication, maliciousness, envy, unrighteousness, wickedness, pride, and a host of other wrongs.

We were born with a sin nature into a fallen world, but so often we want to deny that we struggle, have struggled, and will continue to struggle with both inward and outward sin. *Although we are given great promises that we can with diligence add to our faith, virtue, knowledge, temperance, patience, godliness, brotherly kindness, and charity, we easily forget we have obtained precious faith and these virtues through the righteousness of God and our Savior Jesus Christ and He has given unto us all things that pertain unto life and godliness.

We forget that we were purged from our old sins and obtained noting on our own. We all have been wounded and hurt by sin, but we have a Savior who heals. So let us rejoice in our salvation and rejoice in our restoration; and let us pray for strength to remove the covering of self-righteous pride and lay bare the scars of those deep heart wounds remembering that scars can add beauty to our lives, credibility to our testimony, and encouragment to those whose wounds are still raw.

* 2 Peter 1:1-9

What to Do When Nothing Blooms

There it was – swaying in the cold wind that came whipping around the house – a single bloom. Today is the first of May and usually by now my iris blooms have begun to fade and make way for other spring flowers, but this year this single bloom is not only late but lonely. Irises are a hardy spring flowers and they’ve been known to bloom around old farm houses for decades after the occupants have left the farm. I have raised irises in many places for many years and I cannot remember a spring in which they did not bloom – until this year.

The Texas Panhandle is a land of extremes when it comes to the weather. Temperatures in the summer can soar to triple digits and winter lows can plummet to negative numbers. It is not uncommon for wind gusts to top more than 50 mph. We have tornadoes, torrential rains, blizzards, hail that is measured in feet, severe drought and dirt storms in which rolling walls of dirt block out the sun and reduce visibility to almost zero. Since 2011 the Texas Panhandle has experienced one of the most severe droughts since the 1930’s and although we have had a little moisture this spring it has not been nearly enough and the land remains parched and dry. This week has continued the fight between winter and summer that we have seen repeated throughout the month of April with temperatures warming to almost summer like heat only to fall below freezing a few days later. Yesterday it was in the 90’s and tomorrow’s highs will remain in the 40’s. I think perhaps it has been these temperature extremes along with the prolonged drought that has stripped spring of its color and I long for warmer weather and colorful spring flowers.

Sometimes life can seem as dry and colorless as the Texas Panhandle during a drought. We feel continually buffeted by storms and emotional extremes that dry up our reserves and weigh heavy on our heart. And although we may have a brief reprieve in which the weather warms and we can kick off our shoes and relax, the recess does not last long enough to grow or even gain strength before we are once again blasted by the cold winds of despondence and despair. What do we do when we’re downcast and discouraged; when we have nothing to offer – no blooms, no fruit, no increase; no offering?

We remember! I remember all the many seasons in which my yard was ablaze with color. I remember the years of rain and abundance. I remember blessings to numerous to count and I remember to give thanks for the past as well as the present. Throughout the pages of scripture the saints of God remember His mighty works and they are strengthened by the remembrance of His deliverance. So when we have no blooms, when we don’t even have the hope of fruit, we can remember and be encouraged that the One who was faithful is faithful still. The rains will come again, the flowers and fruit will bloom and produce in abundance, and the thirsty will be satisfied. Even if it doesn’t rain this side of heaven I will still rejoice in the remembrance of my blessings and the God of my salvation!