Inconvenient, unexpected places

Bloom where I’m planted? 

                Walking is a mandatory activity now that Maisy is in my life.  That’s because our flat (apartment) is on the first floor and requires that I take her down stairs to get outside. 

Just to clarify—in Britain we live on the first floor, because below us is the ground floor.  In America we’d live on the second floor because the ground-level floor is called the first floor.  Therefore when we want to go outside we either access our small balcony or have to leave the flat and take the stairs to use the doors. 

Anyway, “Maverick” and I must take “Little Britches” out every few hours.  I usually take her out the back quad if I’m in a hurry.  However, at least once a day I take her over the street to the park.  She loves a good sniff around, chasing the birds and barking at people and other dogs. 

Some days while I am walking I get lost in thought and even forget to make sure Maisy does her toilet business.  Other days I am totally connected with the environment; observing the leaves changing colours, the latest blooming flowers, the people waiting at the bus station, and the latest billboard ads on the buses. 

The other day I observed something that stopped me in my tracks.  I was glad I’d remembered my phone so I could take a photo.    Laughter and astonishment mixed as I studied a tree growing underneath a park bench. 

By standing there and taking in this peculiar sight, I found it easy to surmise this short, young tree had actually shot up from some seeds that had fallen from nearby trees.  The ground around the concrete base of the bench had accumulated enough dirt to allow the seed to sprout and take root.  Eventually, the drive within the tree to grow made one branch curve around the back of the bench.  I could imagine the branches trying to grow up through the slats of the seat. 

But ultimately I had to ponder on what would become of that tree.  Would the gardeners take the simple, straightforward, expeditious approach and cut it down?  Or would some patient groundman study on the problem, finding a way to excavate the tree with its roots and transplant it?  Over time I will discover the answer. 

Thoughts in my head wondered to possible illustrations in life.  Have I found myself in an inconvenient place, but dared to put down roots and grow—even if it meant that my work would be discarded later by someone who had no idea as to how much effort I’d put into it?  I would say yes.  That is the nature of life.  For me it has been spending two years in Texas, two years in Scotland, two-and-a-half years in Carlinville, Illinois.  I was a missionary in Texas and Scotland.  I was a student in Illinois.  On all those occasions I knew I would grow as a person—emotionally, spiritually, and intellectually.  I also knew it was for a short time—a bit like the tree under the bench. 

In some respects YWAM and college were not inconvenient places, because I chose to follow the direction I believed God was leading me.  It wasn’t inconvenient, because of all the training and experience I would gain. 

 

The inconvenience came in other ways.

• Financially I had to trust the Lord for staff fees, personal expenses and tuition for college.   
• Emotionally, because in missions and college/university there is the constant turn-over of people which means making friends for a short season.  They will move on, as I will. 
• Spiritually challenging because I had to trust God on deeper levels.   
• It meant being away from my family, specifically my mother and sister.  Communication had to be by phone and e-mail.  I couldn’t just jump in the car and get to them in an hour or two. 

Yet, it was worth it for me invest of myself for those short seasons.

Under the bench those seeds were protected from birds who would eat them.  They were protected for the hot sun, which could have dried it out and made it unable to sprout.   They were protected from too much rain, but in a good place to have enough water to absorb moisture to thrive.  Most likely, once discovered by the council’s landscapers, it will be removed without being replanted. 

Under the protection of big organisations I was protected while I took risks.  

• Travelling to places I’d never been before, I didn’t have to worry about being assaulted, kidnapped, robbed or harmed by ill-intentioned people.  I could see and taste new cultures without fear.  
•  Should I fall ill myself, resources were available to me because of my association with the missionary training centres and the college.  
• Pastoral care, spiritual fellowship and supportive friends were at hand, which allowed my creativity to thrive and produce.  However, instead of fearing my life being cut off, I could rest in knowing that God’s gracious hand would lift me up from one field, tend to my roots and place me in another field to grow. 

There have been unexpected results—like being grafted into a large family.  A search on the internet, a connection through a website seemed like an unlikely way to fall in love.  For almost two years friendship and love grew—with “Maverick” planted in England while I was planted in Illinois.  Those roots developed, with me knowing that I was growing under a bench.  Yet I was excited by the idea of being transplanted to a new nation. 

Moments of emotional storm, great fear, were encountered during those days of transition.  Yet, it was tempered by faith, love and support. 

Just like I don’t know the future of that little tree under the park bench, I really don’t know how the coming years will unfold.  But I know that the Loving Hands that planted me, pruned me, provided for me will also be faithful to place me where He knows I can dig my roots deeply, and reach toward heaven and become the most fruitful.

Serving Jesus, Author of our faith. 

"Lady Helene"

Dungarees and Dirt!

Christmas 2001

        As befitting a farmer’s granddaughter, and a “Wannabe Lady Farmer”, I chose to wear my dungarees today as I sat out on the balcony working on my “Farmer’s Tan” and organising my “Balcony Garden in Boxes.”  I was out in the glaring sun, mixing water with fertilizer, pouring it into dried out compost and making mud.  I reviewed my stash of last year’s seeds, deciding how much I wanted to plant, and which container to place them in.  The result is:  beet root, spinach, sunflowers, dwarf bush beans all planted.  I discovered that the packet that was labelled carrots was actually empty.  This set back the planting progress, as I need a trip to the super store to buy more carrot seeds, and more compost.  In addition, I need to plant cucumber seed, and yellow squash seeds. 

Before the planting

        My little pots of green won’t produce enough to preserve or store.  But we might get a meal or two from the effort I put in.  Having the soil in my hands was peace-giving, and honest.  There is a subtle excitement about the possibilities that exist in the seeds, satisfaction and pleasure of watching life spring forth and grow. 

        I am a little more organised this year.  I learned a few things last year and put the information to good use this year.  Like feeding last year’s dried up compost before planting anything.  Because there are no decaying bits, and no worms to help the old roots to decompose, there is no nourishment for the seeds once they sprout.  But, by loosening up the compost, making it not only moist, but muddy, with plant food diluted in water, the compost is still usable.  I will still need more compost for this year.  But I have a base to work with. 

The planting is on...

        By 4:00 p.m., the skies had clouded over, the temperature cooled and I was glad I’d gotten the planting done by 2:00 p.m. 

        Speaking of dungarees, the ones in this photo have been worn out and thrown away.  They were made of brown corduroy, very soft and lovely to wear.  By the time they went into the rubbish bin (trash), they were faded a light beige.  The blue denim pair I wore today are a Christmas present from a friend.  These are almost a year and a half old.  There is something about wearing dungarees whilst working in the dirt (making mud pies!) that make me feel authentic, uncomplicated, a little bit country. 

        Since I own only one pair of dungarees, I want to make a gardening apron.  My Midnight Man had three or four old pairs of worn out jeans he could no longer wear.  I’ve been mentally pondering the best design for an apron made from a pair of these.  I was inspired by a blog posting that showed someone else’s handiwork.  Today I opened up the inside seam of a leg and it will match the section to which I want to attaché to the front pockets.  The leg needs some trimming down to fit.  Then I have to design a way to tie it on, as well as something to go around the neck.  Once I get this done, I’ll post photos. 

        The jeans also provide enough scrape to make some pot holders, which will allow me to practice some free-motion machine embroidery. 

        As the days go on, and I’m puttering around on the balcony, I’ll make sure to prevent becoming a red-neck by using the SPF 30 sun block.  I’ll also wear my base-ball cap and sunglasses.  Oh and keep the water bottle handy to keep from getting dehydrated in the heat and sun.  I’d like to think that my Grandpa Cox would be proud of my humble efforts to honour my heritage—sowing and reaping and enjoying the process as the days unfold. 

Serving Jesus, Author of our faith,  "Lady Reed"