Are You Wearing Your Wildflower Crown?

Hi Friends,

We're enjoying a February warm spell and our property is abloom with wildflowers (mostly yellow ones). As I was out walking to the barn today, seeing all the flowers (the picture is of the flowers right outside my door!), I remembered how my kids had made wildflower crowns not too long ago. And I realized that I have not been wearing the wildflower-crown that God has made for me in life. I've been too busy, too tired, too overwhelmed.

I want to start wearing my crown again. Maybe you do too.

Here's the story that inspired me…

WILDFLOWER CROWNS

They came in giggling.  All six of them with dirt smudges on their noses, grass stains on their knees.  Laughing and dancing and flopping on the floor in a bundle of bubbling sibling delight.

“Don’t make a mess!”  I gripped the dishtowel in one hand and peered out the kitchen.  “No dirty shoes on the rug!”

“Don’t worry,” Joelle called.  “We won’t.”

“Did you clean up the basement for community group?”  I went back to drying the dishes.

No one answered.

“We’ve got a lot to do.”  

Only another burst of giggles answered me.

I put my fists on my hips and stomped around the corner.  “Hey, you --”  The words caught.

My three-year-old skipped toward me, one  hand on her head.  “Look, Mommy, look what I’ve got.  I’m wondrous beauty!”  She pulled a crown of wildflowers from her hair.  “See?”

I did see.  I saw them all, with flowers adorning every head, with crowns woven of daisies and dandelions and little purple wildflowers. They were beautiful.  Wondrous.

“Jayden made me a crown.  Purple, your favorite color.”

I bent over and squeezed her tight.  “You are a beautiful princess.”  I stood up.  “All of you.”

“Not me!”  Jayden took the crown from his head and tossed it in the air.  “Boys aren’t princesses.”

His sisters laughed.  “You make the best crowns, though.”

He made a face and brushed sand from his hair and onto the rug.

Bethany, the eldest, stood.  “Come on, let’s go make some more.  Let’s make one for Dad!”

They jumped to their feet and raced out the door.  

I shook my head and dried my hands on the towel as the door slammed shut and they scurried out onto the lawn.  I paused by the window, watching.  Legs scampered across the grass, hair glistened in the sun, small bodies flung themselves toward the patch of flowers growing near the driveway.  Sunshine and color and beauty and hope, adorned with wildflowers.

A moment later, they were sitting in a tight circle.  Fingers flashed as they wove stems into head-sized circlets.  Joelle placed a crown on Jayna, Bethany put one on Bria, while the littlest one worked hard to weave one that I knew would be for big brother, who would wear it even though he was NOT a princess.

With crowns complete, they stood and began singing at the top of their lungs.  They danced in circles.  They ran; they leapt; they rolled on the grass.  And I was reminded of Zephaniah 3:17 (NIV), “The Lord your God is with you... He will take great delight in you; in his love he will...rejoice over you with singing.”  

This is what rejoicing looked like.  This wildness, and joy, and dancing, and running, and tumbling.  And singing that was more like a shout than a song.  This was the kind of joy God offered me in Zephaniah 3:17.  

He offered me a crown of wildflowers.

I looked down at the dishtowel, still in my hands.  There was work to be done, dusting and laundry and dishes and food preparation for our group.  I had a to-do list a mile long.  How would I get it all done?

Then, came a whisper in my soul:  “Do not worry about tomorrow... (Mt. 6:34)... I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these ... (Mt. 6:29)”

Not even Solomon was dressed like one of these children, with their dirt-smudged noses, their grass-mussed knees, their flower-crowned heads.  God had adorned them with beauty, not because of their work but because of his love. They were princesses (well, except for Jayden), with crowns to match.  They were daughters of the King.

And so was I.

I dropped the dishtowel and called out the window.  “Hey, who’s going to make a crown for Mom?”

Then, I danced toward the door.

The Best Valentine's Gift

Hi Friends,

Well, it's almost Valentine's day, so here are some thoughts on the best gift ever…

THE BEST GIFT

"Happy Valentine's Day, Honey," my husband murmured, then scooted out the door with his usual quick kiss and bear hug.  "See ya later."  Bryan winked and was gone.

That’s it? I thought.  No candy, no flowers, no delicate chocolates in the traditional bright red heart-shaped box!  Just a hug, kiss, and out the door?  This was supposed to be a day of passion, of romance, of chocolates!  A frown tugged at the corners of my mouth and deepened into ugly grooves.

Bryan never was much of a romantic anyway, I complained.  He just doesn't understand women.  Days like today are supposed to be special.

I sighed and drew my brows together in a deeper scowl as I proceeded to review again all the faults I imagined in my poor, unwary spouse.  By the time I was finished, I was thoroughly dissatisfied.  Valentine's Day was ruined.  And it was all his fault! 

I threw my body crosswise on the couch and swung my legs across the cushions.  Reluctantly, I picked up the Bible for my daily devotion.  I wasn't in the mood.  My eyes fell on the day's scripture, "Serve one another in love" (Galatians 5:13).  Love.  There was that word.  Today was supposed to be the day of love.  I wasn't feeling much love at all.  And it was all Bryan's fault! ... Or was it?  The scripture didn't say to expect to be loved.  It especially didn't say to expect chocolates just because it was Valentine's Day.

Slowly, my temper quelled and I began to examine my reactions.  Bryan had done no more or less than any other day.  He had given me the hug and kiss that I usually counted as a treasure.  So why the difference this morning?  Was it because today I had expected more?  Had I succumbed to the dreaded "E" word - Expectation? 

I began to realize that the problem with my expectations is that I can never win with them.  As soon as I expected Bryan to act a certain way, I set myself up for disappointment.  When he didn't meet my expectations, I was upset.  If he had acted as I expected, then I would have been satisfied.  But how could I have been pleasantly surprised and appreciate his kindness if I had been expecting it all along?

February, they say, is a month for love.  And Jesus showed us what real love is all about -- Not candies, nor flowers, nor sweet chocolates wrapped in a fancy box.  No, love is about laying down our lives for one another, about serving one another in love.

So, this year for Valentine's Day, I'm not going to worry about gifts of tantalizing chocolates.  I'm not going to cling to expectations of what my husband is supposed to do for me.  Rather, I plan to give my husband one of the greatest gifts of all in a marriage -- I'm going to exchange my expectations for joy and thanksgiving -- the best Valentine's gift of all!

When Life is Like Riding a Bike with Only One Pedal

Hi Friends,


I've been contemplating this story from my college days this week. So for anyone who feels like they've veered off track, here's some encouragement:

Pedal Problems

It was my first new bike ever.  A beautiful apple-red mountain bike, with a shiny black seat and real, honest-to-goodness gears.  Not many gears, but gears all the same.  Unfortunately, it was also the cheapest new bike I could find.  In the weeks before heading off to college, I had scoured the newspaper ads to find the very lowest price for a new bike.  Eventually, I found it. 

I didn’t realize my mistake until a few months later when I was late to Chemistry class.  I pedaled hard up the last hill.  Gears crunched, wheels turned, my backpack slipped sideways on my shoulder.  Then, it happened.  With a sharp crack, followed by a loud clunk, the left pedal broke and fell off my bike.  I swerved off the path, brushed against a tall pine, and finally crunched into an old wooden bench.  I looked down at the spot where the pedal should have been and at the fresh smear of grease on my pantleg. 

Then, I propped the bike against the bench and went back to retrieve the pedal.  Surely I could just stick it back on, or screw it in, or do something to make it stay put.  But it wasn’t that easy.  With the right tool, and a couple small parts, the pedal could be fixed.  But that didn’t help me now, on the side of the bike path, five minutes late to Chemistry 101.

So, I popped the pedal into a pouch in my backpack, climbed back on the shiny black seat, pointed the bike in the right direction, and pushed my foot against the one pedal that was left.  After two wobbly revolutions of the wheels, I quit.  Trying to ride a bike with only one pedal was not only impractical, it was impossible.  The bike was still apple red, the seat still shiny, the gears still working as they should.  Everything was just right, except for the one missing pedal.  But that’s all it took for the whole bike to be useless for its purpose.  So, there I was, with a perfectly good bike, minus one pedal, walking to class and pushing the bike beside me.

               I learned two valuable lessons that day:  First, cheapest is not always best.  And second, more importantly, both pedals need to be attached for a bike to go. 

The second lesson has come back to me often over the years since college.  I don’t ride a bike much anymore, but there still have been plenty of times when my daily life seemed to be veering off the path and heading toward the pines.  When, no matter how hard I was trying to pedal uphill, I just couldn’t get things to work.  And in those times, most of my life still looked right – the shiny parts were still shiny, the gears still worked as they should.  But something had gotten lost or loosened along the way.  Something had to be fixed before my life could pedal up the straight path again. 

Sometimes that something was a relationship that needed mending, or a habit that had to be changed.  Sometimes it was fear replacing faith, or a hidden anger that things hadn’t gone as I’d hoped.  Most often, something had gone awry spiritually.  I was too busy to take the time needed to maintain an intimate relationship with God.  So, the pedal of trust grew loose and my life wobbled into the trees.  When that happens, I’ve found that I need to stop trying to push forward, get off the bike for a moment, and see what’s wrong.  Then, it’s time to ask God to repair my broken parts and make me whole. 

In those times, I often pray the words of Psalm 51:10-12 (NIV):  ^“Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.  Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me.  Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me.” 

And God is more than willing to replace my pedals and help me back onto the path He’s chosen for me.

Preparing for Life's Storms

Hi Friends,

Ah, we're finally getting some good rain here on California's central coast! And with it, we're getting flooded roads, backed up pipes, and a lot of water everywhere (even where we don't want it.

So, as I was watching the rain pouring down today, I remembered this story - a good reminder for the beginning of a new year.

I was encouraged to keep my spiritual pipes clear in preparation for the storms that are bound to come. I hope you're encouraged too!

When the Rains Come

I gripped my umbrella in tight fists and stared through the rain that careened off the fabric above me.  Then, I took a few steps forward and waved at the yellow, husband-shaped blob that stood a few feet away, the image obscured by the water pouring between us.    

Bryan tugged at his mustard-colored rain slicker and didn’t wave back.  In fact, he didn’t even turn as he sloshed through the foot-deep water that threatened the foundation of our house. 

“Hey, you need help?”  I shouted the question over the roar of the rain.

He glanced back and squinted.  “Get a hose.”

A hose?  With all this water, it seemed that the last thing we needed was a hose.

Bryan waved his hand toward the garage.  “Get all the hoses you can find.  Hurry.”  He knelt down and starting digging into the hole where the drainage pipe was supposed to be.

“What happened?”

“Drains must be plugged.  We need to siphon off this water before it damages our foundation.”

I nodded and jogged to the garage.  There, I found three hoses and hauled them back to the ever-deepening pool over our patio.   

Bryan grabbed the first hose, shoved it under the water, then pulled the other end downhill to the lawn.  After a few minutes, he stood and strode back toward me.

I held out the second hose.  “Is it working?”

He grimaced and took the next hose.  “Yeah, but it’s slow.  We really need the drain pipes to work.”

“Why aren’t they?”

“I don’t know.”

Bryan set the second hose to siphoning while I worked on the third.  But even with all three hoses, the level of the water didn’t seem to be lowering.  And the rain just kept pouring down. 

For the rest of the afternoon, we labored in the pounding rain to keep the water from flooding our basement.  It was hard work with pumps and hoses, buckets and brooms.  We sloshed, we hauled, we siphoned, we swept.  We watched, we waited, we hoped, and we wondered what had happened to the drains.

In the months previous, when the sun was shining, nothing seemed wrong.  The patio was clean and shiny.  The drains looked fine.  But the first big rainstorm of the year proved that something had gone wrong.

The next day, after the rains had let up, Bryan came in from working in the yard.  He called to me from the front room.  “I figured out what happened.”

I peered around the corner.  “What?”

“Seems that a bunch of grass had grown into one of the pipes, plugging it.  The water couldn’t get out.  That’s why it backed up.”

“Guess we should have checked that.” 

“I didn’t even know that pipe was there.”

“Well, we certainly know it now.”  And now, we’d know to keep it clear.  But it was too bad we hadn’t paid enough attention to the pipes while the weather was good.  It took a storm to show us that everything wasn’t as clear and free-flowing as we’d thought.

Life is a lot like that, too.  When the sun’s shining and all seems well, it’s easy to think our faith is all right.  It’s easy to forget to keep things cleared out and the pipes flowing.  I miss my regular time of Bible study and prayer and think, “Oh well, I’ll just do it next time.”  Little issues pop up, and I simply deal with them, forgetting to cast all my cares upon God, because he cares for me (1 Peter 5:7). 

But then the rainstorm hits.  Something hard and unexpected happens.  Fears, worries, doubts pile up and threaten my foundation.  And in the midst of the storm, it’s hard work to clear the flood.  Instead, it’s better to pay attention when the sun’s shining.  It’s better to keep the lines of communication open and flowing freely between me and God before the rains start to fall. 

1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 (NIV) tells us “Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus.”

By praying continually, by being joyful, by giving thanks, I can keep my spiritual “pipes” open so I won’t be caught by surprise when life’s storms hit.  I need to pay attention while the sun’s shining so that when it rains my faith is ready to flow freely through pipes kept clear by prayer and faithfulness.

Christmas, Mary, and the God of Mystery

Hi Friends,

This year I have so many who are close to me are facing serious health issues, some are dealing with the impending death of a loved one, some have lost jobs, some are lonely from lost or strained relationships. Even at Christmastime, sometimes especially at Christmastime, life is hard.

Why does it have to be hard at Christmas? That is the mystery I ponder, and as I do, I think about these words from Wrestling with Wonder:

Christmas, Mary, and the God of Mystery:

I Don’t Know.

Scary words. I don’t like to speak them. I don’t like to write them. I don’t like them at all. Instead, I much prefer:

I know.

I understand.

It makes sense.

I have the answers.

But the reality of life often is:

I don’t know.

I don’t understand.

It doesn’t make sense.

I don’t have the answers.

I cringe away from admissions like that. I want my world to make sense. I want explanations and reasons and a carefully constructed theology where all the i’s are diligently dotted and all the t’s carefully crossed.

I don’t want mystery.

And yet God is a God of mystery. He often refuses to explain himself and instead woos me to that uncomfortable in-between place where things don't make sense and I don’t have it all figured out. 

He beckons me there, and asks me not to understand, but instead to ponder.

To question.

To think.

To wonder.

I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. After all, this is the God who calls me to live in the tension between faith and works, between a loving God and a broken world, between justice and mercy. He calls me to wrestle with my questions, dance with my doubts, and live with not understanding all the whys and wherefores and what-does-it-all-means.

He calls me to ponder as he offers no easy answers, no pat theologies, no simple explanations to put on the bumper stickers of my life.

He beckons me to live with mystery -- the mystery of a Messiah in a manger.

Mystery. 

Mary pondered the mystery of her God when scruffy shepherds showed up looking for an infant lying where the animals feed. She pondered as they told a strange story of singing angels who visited not a newborn messiah, but a bunch of sheep-herders in the fields. She pondered as they spoke. And she treasured the truths she could not yet understand.

May you embrace the mystery of a Messiah in a manger this Christmas!

Merry Christmas,

On the Difficult Road to Bethlehem

Hi Friends,

This week I'm pondering the long road to Bethlehem and how much Mary had to go through before she could hold Jesus in her arms. Sometimes you and I have to travel long and go through much before we experience Christ in a new and more vibrant way as well.

Here are some thoughts about that from Wrestling With Wonder:

EXCERPT:

Too often, I think, when we approach the Christmas story, we are caught up in the star, the angels, the babe in the manger. We forget that it took a nearly-one-hundred-mile journey, while pregnant, to get there. That could not have been an easy trip...
But at the end of the journey, Mary would encounter Christ in a way she hadn’t before. The Messiah would be born, and she would be transformed. She would hold God incarnate in her arms ... but only after a long and arduous journey.
Sometimes, it’s no different for you or me. Sometimes we have to travel a path we don’t understand to arrive in the place where God wants us to be.

And as s I recall my journey, and Mary’s, they teach me that even through hurt and discomfort, maybe especially in hurt and pain, God is leading to a place where I will glimpse his glory anew. He is saying to me that I must travel the path he has placed before me in order to get to the place he has planned for me since the beginning. 

So, when you’ve surrendered to God’s call and are suddenly thrust onto a road you never imagined and never wanted, remember, he knows the path you take. He travels with you, within you, and you will see him as you never could have before if you just keep going, trust, and persevere.
There, you will see the face of the Messiah. You will meet him in a new way. So, place one foot in front of the other, walk through your life day by day, know that this road, as pointless as it seems, is the only way to his will. 
Jesus must be born in Bethlehem. You must travel the difficult road at the worst time in your life to get there. Keep going, have faith, walk ... and you will get to that new place where you will see him in a new way. The place where you will be changed. Don’t give up. Don’t despair. 

This road leads to Bethlehem ... 

Mary & God's Interruptions

Hi Friends,

So the Christmas season begins! And as you might imagine, I begin my season pondering an angel's visit to a young girl in Galilee, a girl who would become the mother of Jesus.

Here are some thoughts from the first chapter of Wrestling with Wonder that I'm thinking about this week, and I thought you might find encouraging too.

May God remind you, as he's reminding me, to treasure his interruptions, especially in this season, and to find his promises, plans, and joy in those moments when he interrupts my plans with his own.

Excerpt:

Who is this God? Who is he who interrupts our lives with a call to the impossible?

He is the Dream Taker and the Dream Maker.

The Dream Taker 

“Follow your dreams!” says the world. 

“Die to self,” says God. “Die to your plans, your dreams, your tight-fisted grip on what your life should be.”

  “You can do anything you set your mind to!” says the world.

“I am God, you are not,” says God. “Submit to me, and together we will do everything I set my mind to.”

“Be somebody!” says the world. “Accomplish, achieve, fight your way to the top!”

“Be mine,” says God. “Stop striving and instead rest in my plans for you. Will you be my handmaiden?”

The Dream Maker 

Meditate on these verses. Hear in them God’s call to you:

• “Delight yourselfTake delight in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart” (Psalm 37:4, NIV). Not “Delight yourselfTake delight in the Lord and he will do whatever you want.” Instead, he will give you the desires themselves—new desires, new dreams, his dreams for you. His dreams will becomes yours!
• “For we are God’s masterpiece, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God has already prepared for us to walk around in” (Eph. 2:10, translation mine). He has already favored us with a plan and a call. It’s all prepared. You just have to let go and step forward.
• “I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord (Jeremiah 29:11 NIV, emphasis mine). And they aren’t our plans. They aren’t our dreams. They aren’t our carefully scripted ideas for what our lives should be. Instead, they are a call to the impossible—to loss, confusion, difficulty, misunderstandings, ridicule ... and ultimately to wonder. 

            So in the great calls, and in the small: Rejoice, fear not, and submit. Whisper to God, “Let it be to me as you have said.”