Living Beautifully No Matter What

Hi Friends,

I love this story from my trip to France a few years ago. I hope it encourages you too today!

Out of the Flowerbed

It seemed as if I were walking in heaven as I strolled the beautiful gardens outside Château de Chenonceau in France. Bright reds, deep purples, glowing oranges, sunny yellows surrounded me and filled the air with a sweet aroma. Many of the flowers were grown for cutting and placing inside the many rooms of the chateau. I wandered through the neat rows of violas, petunias, roses, lilies, tulips, all perfectly kept, watered, groomed, weeded. Beautiful lavender wisteria draped like a jeweled necklace over ancient out-buildings. 

            I took a deep breath and paused. Ah, to be a beautiful rose in the garden of the King!

I looked down. And there, right beside all the perfectly tended garden flowers, sprung a bunch of scattered little white blooms that weren’t tended at all. They sprinkled the lawn just outside the flowerbeds. Tiny little daisies with yellow faces, the same ones that popped up along the roadways, in parking lots, and even at my local high school all the way back in California.

            They weren’t cultivated, or watered, or placed carefully in the flowerbeds. They just grew.  I leaned over and examined the daisies. In the grand gardens of a King’s chateau, these little flowers seemed lost and unappreciated among the larger, fancier varieties. But were they? After all, those flowers needed special care and perfect conditions to bloom. Yet these little daisies, they bloomed and brought beauty everywhere, even in the worst conditions. 

It seems that too often in my life, I’ve strived to be like the cultured tulips, the bold wisteria, the elegant lilies. But now, I think I like the humble daisy better. 

I want to be able to be my best and give my best and bring joy to those around me no matter the circumstances. I want to thrive in the King’s garden and along the roadside and even when being trampled by teenagers. 

            In Philippians 4:11-13 (NIV) Paul says, “Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me.”

            What is this secret of Paul’s and of the simple daisy? Perhaps it’s found in the word for “strengthens.” In the Greek, that word is literally the prefix “in” followed by the word from which we get our word “dynamite.” God doesn’t just beef up what we already have. Instead, he puts his power, his great, might, dynamite power, in us … no matter where we’re planted, whether we’re well-tended or whether we’re feeling stomped on by careless feet. 

So I think about the daisy. I think about how it takes whatever God allows to bring its way; it accepts where God has planted it, and it chooses to be what it was created to be.  And God in-powers it. It doesn’t compare itself to the fancier flowers; it doesn’t cry “if only I were there”, or “if only I looked like that.” It does say “if only” at all. Instead, it determines to grow and become who God created it to be, no matter what.

That’s what I want.  I want “no matter what.”

And like the daisy, I can get it by choosing God’s power instead of my own. I become who I am meant to be by being in-filled with him instead of with fear. I grow and flourish by knowing that by his power placed within me, I can thrive in any and all situations. And I can bring joy and blessing to everyone passing by.

You can too.

The Beauty of Pulling the Weeds in Your Life

Hi Friends,

It's that time of year again ... weeding pulling time! As I've been working on weeds, I was thinking about this story from a few years ago. Sometimes the holes left by pulled weeds are a blessing . . .

Pulling Weeds

 

            Spring came quickly this year to our ranch. It came with the budding of wildflowers, scattered puddles like muddy mirrors reflecting the sky, and weeds. Lots and lots and lots of weeds. Tall weeds, short weeds, thick weeds, prickly weeds, weeds that pretended to be flowers but weren’t. Weeds.

            One sunny Saturday, I gathered my children and pointed to the once-well-landscaped strip of earth in front of my husband’s office. “Today is the day! We’re going to make that area nice again.”

            The kids at me. I looked at them. They frowned. I scowled. They grumbled. I jabbed my finger more emphatically toward the weeds. “We are going to do this. No complaints!”

            I ignored the deep sighs and half-hidden eye-rolls, and marched toward the office. A moment later, Jayna grabbed the yard waste bin, Joelle found some gloves, and the rest of them trudged up the hill to the weed-infested area. 

            Bria glanced up at me. “Are all those thorny things weeds?”

            I took a deep breath. “Yep.”

            “And those too?” She waved her hand at some dandelions.

            “Yep.”

            “And that stuff? That’s a lot of work.” She motioned toward some grass-weeds that towered high above the others.

            I nodded. “All weeds. And it’s all gotta go.”

            Little Jordyn pulled at the corner of my shirt. “But those ones are taller than me.”

            “You take the shorter ones.”

            She looked doubtful, but she strode forward anyway, grabbed a thin stalk of dandelion, and yanked. It came up, roots and all, leaving a hole in the ground where it had been.

            I smiled. “That’s the spirit! Come on group!” 

            We spent the next hour pulling weeds and tossing them into the yard waste bin. Leaves flew. Dirt splattered. And soon the area was half-cleared. 

            Jayna paused and put her hands on her hips. “I thought you said we were going to make it nice? Look at all these holes! It’s ugly.”

            I threw a fat thistle-weed into the bin and straightened, evaluating the work we’d done. Jayna was right. Pulling the weeds had created holes all across the strip of land that I had promised would be “nice.” It wasn’t nice. It was upturned earth, unattractive divots, bumps, lumps, and nothing pretty. Maybe I’d been wrong. Maybe weeds were better than this.

            Before I could answer, Bryan stepped out of his office. 

            I wiped my forehead. “I’m not sure if it looks better...Sorry.”

            He smiled “Of course it’s better! It looks great.”

            “But look at the holes.”

            Bryan came down the stairs and surveyed the cleared dirt. “Looks perfect to me. Now I can plant beautiful flowers there like there’s supposed to be. I’m going to put catmint over here.” He pointed to the left.

            “Catmint?”

            “That’s the one with purple flowers. And salvia. And then I can plant a yellow bush daisy over there, and some goldfinger cinquefoil in front and maybe a few Johnny Jump-ups.”

            “Johnny Jump-ups?” Bria laughed. “That sounds like fun!”

            “They are fun. And pretty. But I can only plant them because you’re clearing out all the weeds.”

            Jayna grinned. “I guess ugly holes aren’t so bad after all.”

            The kids went back to work with renewed vigor. Out came the weeds, leaving the ugliest of holes, but they didn’t care anymore. They knew their daddy was going to put something beautiful there. Holes didn’t matter, only the promise of beauty to come.

            As I watched them I realized that maybe the holes made from pulling up weeds in my life weren’t so bad either. Perhaps I needed to be as eager to pull up the weedy-things that had grown up in me, knowing that my heavenly Father also waited to plant something beautiful in the holes left behind.

            2 Corinthians 7:1 (NIV) says, “Therefore, since we have these promises, dear friends, let us purify ourselves from everything that contaminates body and spirit, perfecting holiness out of reverence for God.”

            Purify ourselves. In other words, pull out those weeds! The tall ones that dominate our landscapes, the prickly ones that hurt when we touch them, the deep-rooted ones that will make large, ugly holes. All must go. 

            It’s spring. It’s time to put on some gloves, and with a new sense of determination, rid our lives of the weeds so God can plant his amazing beauty in the most ugly and over-grown places of our lives.