TULIP

Turned Upside-down Left In Pot

I think we were both confused, me because I couldn’t figure out what I was seeing and the plant bulb because all the blood probably rushed to its head somewhere around mid-December.  Medicine will tell you a person should not hang upside down for more than a few minutes but I have no idea how that applies to a tulip bulb that has been upside down for 3 months.  To my mind, he looked both perplexed and embarrassed. 

I know exactly when the poor fellow got turned catawampus though.  A couple of weeks before Christmas one of the squirrels in my hood ventured out of its nest to look for snacks and landed up on my porch; landed up on my porch and in my potted plants to be more exact.  The wee intruder left a trail of mischief that involved peanut shells, dirt and an upturned basket of flip-flops.  I swept up after the little monster and moved pots around so they would be less vulnerable if Mr. Squirrel returned.  I assumed it was a harmless peanut raid. However, I didn’t realize that Mr. Squirrel had dug up my spring bulbs and inverted a couple as he foraged for the peanuts he hid.    To my knowledge he didn’t come back, but that thinking is probably naïveté on my part.  The same naïveté coincidentally, that causes my girlfriend to swear her cats never walk on the kitchen counters when she isn’t home.  I’m not buying it; I saw that little beast licking a dinner plate above the dishwasher regardless of what she needs to believe to get by.  Satan cat probably also chews on her toothbrush when she isn’t looking. 

I gave the job of rescuing the bulb to my little, who heroically inverted the bulb and spoke to it in a very reassuring manner.  Its leaves look a bit worse for wear but we are expecting a full recovery.  Spring growth has a way of eclipsing the blemishes and imperfections of nature.  This first gardening adventure of the season got me thinking about unexpected things that spring up from the soil when the weather heats up.  Weeding isn’t my favorite task in the garden but I do it with some regularity.  I’m always surprised how quickly weeds grow and endlessly surprised as to where they come from.  Nature is filled with maniacal forces that sew weeds every way possible, causing a bumper crop of them regardless of my participation. 

Have you ever been surprised by what your actions have produced my friend, good or bad?  Have you ever watched one of your children behave with astonishing kindness and wondered what on earth you could have done right in raising them to produce such an act of grace?  Conversely, have you ever become so unglued that when you regained your sanity that you wondered what was going on the depths of your soul to cause such dysfunction? Or perhaps you are in a situation that isn’t as clear cut and you are like my tulip who was minding its own business when it got turned upside down by someone who intended evil against you.  When the situation warmed up you found yourself totally unable to rectify the situation. 

I have a dear friend who finds herself in exactly this situation today.  One moment she was walking in good faith with a “friend” and the next she was turned on her head by an astonishing act of selfish unkindness.  Without any warning, she was left exposed, looking foolish and without the resources or reserves to change her situation.  Kind of like my tulip.  It’s pretty hard to get your face out of the dirt and plant your feet when you lack arms, thumbs or any understanding of how you got messed over.   

My friend, if you find yourself in that place, can I encourage you today?  Your situation is known by God.  One of his names is El Roi which translates “the God who sees me.”  You can find the first usage of that name in Genesis 16 by a woman whose situation far exceeded her abilities to deliver herself.  Rest assured God knows the reality of your pain even more than you do.  He promises not to leave you, to take the evil used against you and to work it for your good. 

That might not be the answer you want.  You might want immediate deliverance. 

If I had preached this to myself a year ago, I would have screamed, “I’m not interested in God being with me, I just want to be delivered from this mess.”   I have cried myself to sleep countless nights, begging God to take away a situation he had no intention of removing until his faithfulness in the trial drowned out my fear of the trial.  It was a difficult time.    

So this week I am praying with this scripture in mind,

I sought the LORD, and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears. Psalm 34:4

If you find yourself in a situation that causes you to fear, might I remind you that God is interested in building your faith?  Actually, not interested, that word doesn’t even come close.  Invested, dedicated, committed, these words come closer.  Instead of praying not to be afraid, why not change it up a bit.  Ask to learn the lessons that are taught in times of suffering.  Pray for boldness.  Pray for courage. Pray for his peace. 

You will come through this season.  It will not last forever.  God sees you.  He is working on your behalf.  He is bigger than your fear.

xoxKaren

Humble Matters

Friend!

Has spring arrived?  We are finished with our snowpocalypse and moving into yet another peculiar weather pattern as temperatures head into the 70’s this week, which is well above normal.  I’m not the only one who is finding the weather strange, but the lure of warmer temperatures after that February, is going to stop a lot of complaints. That is if you don’t count the hummingbirds, who complain much more than a bunch of long nosed, feathered slips of nature should.  The spring warmth meant I could take down the lights I set up around their feeder to prevent their nectar from freezing.  However, they feel that my front porch has lost its cantina-party feel and they are a bit cross. Despite their annoyance, I put the lights away and used the extension cord to plug the fountain back in.  I did that for the frog who lives outside the bedroom window, but frankly I’m not certain he is still with us.  I haven’t heard him since late fall and I’m beginning to worry.  Tending to creation isn’t for the faint of heart.  When do frogs wake up, any idea? 

I would give you an update on the squirrels, but they are such monsters that they'll have to wait for next time.  Which brings me to more important things, are you well? I was trying to calculate how long it has been since you left and then I gave up.  I just know I miss you in the spring when we should be out walking.  I forgive you for abandoning me to the intoxicating call of pluff mud.  Mind you, an alligator in my back yard is would be tempting: I bet it cuts down on the number of squirrels you have to deal with.  

It’s not like I need creation to drive me round the bend, either.  I can do that by myself.  Did I tell you I have a new friend? Well, I like to think of it as a friendship; mostly I drive the poor woman crazy.  We both work at the schools’ welcome table, she before lunch hour and me the hour after.  Problem is, try as I might, I never get to the table on time.  I am always late and she is always covering for me.  Moreover, if I am going to do something stupid, it will happen in her presence.  It’s the craziest thing.  Have you ever had someone in your life who keeps witnessing your disorganization?  It is radically uncomfortable.  

Take the other day for example.  I was working upstairs when one of the littles knocked her bottle of juice across the carpet creating a puddle on the floor.  Fortunately she told me what happened, which meant we immediately became partners in a toxic spill situation.  I gave her permission to become my lead helper, despite her lack of hazmat suit and sent her to grab rags, while reminding myself that children’s feelings are far more important carpet stains.  I didn’t want to bite the poor things head off for putting juice on the floor.  Actually, I did want to bite her head off, but had the presence of mind to remember that Jesus probably didn’t bite children who spilled drinks.  Once that tempest-in-a-tea cup passed, I was asked to help with a furniture mix up that involved chairs and tables.  From furniture placement I ran into someone who needed help editing a document and reviewing a contract.  When I finally stopped moving and tried to figure out what was next, I realized it was 1:40 and I was 40 minutes late for my 50 minutes at the welcome table.  Screaming, I ran downstairs and presented myself, red-faced, to the woman to whom I am perpetually indebted.  I’ll call her Anne but her real name is Lois.  Anne laughed and shook her head, “It’s okay, I knew you would show up eventually.”  I was mortified and set myself to a ten minute apology, complete with promises of baking and dark chocolate reparations and then left the table to start the end of day clean up.  I felt horrible.  Being 5 minutes late to my shift was one thing, forgetting it entirely was another.  

It was such a busy day; I didn’t sit down until well after 7:00 that evening.  I sunk into a chair with my tea cup, kicked off my shoes and went to remove my earrings.  When I did, I realized my favorite earring had fallen out.  I had no idea where or when I lost it.  After a moment of panic, I summoned the strength to email the team and ask if anyone had turned in a silver earring at the welcome table.  Immediately, I got an email in response.  

Karen,

A silver earring was found near the table 4th hour.  I placed in the box in one of the bins.  It should be there on Monday,

Anne

Of course Anne had found what I lost!  During the 10 minutes I had been downstairs apologizing to Anne for being 40 minutes late, I managed to lose my earring in front of her, so she could find it, put it in the lost and found and hand it to me later.  It was absolutely mortifying.  I wrote her a note of thanks and prayed to Jesus that she would find me pathetic and worthy of mercy as opposed to entirely incompetent.  The following week I dutifully baked muffins and bought dark chocolate.  On Wednesday I handed her my guilt offering and received absolution for my existence.  I figured the worst was behind me; I would show up for the table on time from now on and prove my competence.  

My plan was in place 5 hours before things went wrong.  Remember that document I edited?  It was a list of student names to be checked to ensure the correct spelling for placement on a tee shirt.  There were quite a few mistakes actually and I was thrilled that we caught 5 misspelled names.  Sadly, there were 6 mistakes.  Guess whose name I missed?  Yep.  Anne’s son.  I got the mail that evening, letting me know of the mistake and asking if I could correct it.  It was gracious and kind and I felt like a humbled toad.  I figured I needed to have a “come to Jesus moment” about how the Lord was humbling me before I accidentally ran her over and killed her dog.  I wrote a note of apology and slunk into bed.

I was not winning.

Have you ever had something like that happen friend?   No matter how hard you try you keep messing up over and over again?  It can be downright demoralizing.  But it does teach a soul that grace in the face of error is a valuable commodity.  Grace might not be as trendy as self-righteous indignation when things go sideways, but its sure handy to have sewn grace when you are the twit who makes the mistake.  

So I’m praying for those of us who are slow learners.  Those who God has placed on the sidelines of safe communities, in order to humble us  so that we learn how to accept responsibility, apologize and make things right.  May the lessons we learn run deep into our hearts, be soaked in grace, and sprinkled with humor so that our lives might be changed to change others.

Change others for the better I mean.

Not like what I do to Anne…

That would be unkind.

Love you and miss you,

xoxKaren

Image created on the YouVersion Bible app. 

Precious

As if mail delivery wasn't hard enough.

So it’s melty over here. 

That’s not a term folks like Cliff Mass use but it’s accurate.  Our snowpocalypse is now officially a slushpocalypse and frankly the population at large is a bit frayed.  Never before have people looked so happy to be out in the grocery stores and some were even seen singing in bank lineups.  For those hit worst by the storm, Friday was the first day it was possible for some to leave their cul-de-sacs and even then prayers were raised as slush and ice forced tires into arbitrary and bizarre lanes that scared many drivers.  If you are one of the many who live where snow is a season not an event, you are doubtless beyond wondering what our problem is and why Seattle deems itself so flipping news-worthy for what was a fairly normal snowfall.   

I think it’s because we are so darn precious.

It was midway through the second week when I started to feel like my precious family was too much of a good thing.  Running the dryer filled with soggy hats and scarves had become a daily occurrence and I even moved a bath mat to the foyer to deal with all the excess moisture coming in the front door.  Hanging up coats was part of my morning routine and I was having trouble discerning the difference between the socks and gloves that littered the hallway.  My children had given up speaking with each other and picked of the maddening habit of answering one another in musical numbers.  If one more child sang one more line of Evan Hansen, I was going to pitch them outside and let them be found in spring.  My hubby was no better, his musical responses were based off Moana and if the sea called to him again I was willing to make the arrangements to see how far he would go.  It was a time of feeling constrained which doesn’t happen frequently in our climate.   

Precious is the word that comes to the fore when things go wrong for communities.  In times of need people are capable of doing the most amazing and kind things.  Then there are the stupid things people do which can be relatively precious as well, if you are inclined to give folks a lot of grace and remember your own less stellar moments. Mine came when I decided to walk my daughter through a neighborhood field to her friend’s.  It was only a mile, but a mile in knee deep snow with no sidewalks was a new experience for both of us.  It would have been a delightful outing if I had the correct footwear.  However, my boots had been taken by different children, leaving me to try to figure out what to wear to make our epic trek.  Salvation came in the form of a pair of boots a friend had purchased for the end of the year drama production.  This pair was a steal for $5.  They looked great and if one overlooked the fact the treads on the soles had been worn off entirely, then you would agree you had a great pair of stage boots. 

Imagine my ingenuity then, when I decided these boots would be “just fine” for walking to our friends’ house.  To counteract the slippery-as-death soles I grabbed my beach walking stick, to help me navigate.  The results were about as disastrous as you could imagine.  To start, I live on a significant hill.  Secondly, our hill had iced over and was topped with 6 inches of compact snow, giving it the "descent of death" vibe for those dumb enough to venture out in sub par foot wear.  I realized it wasn’t going well when I made it to the tire tracks in the road and started to descend the hill without actually moving.  I was sliding down the hill without the ability to stop, which impressed my little, who decided to help by shouting which way I should be pushing off the walking stick, aka "rudder”, to miss landing in a snow bank.  It didn’t much work.  The entire trek was laced with momentary pauses wherein I would be vertical one moment, then completely horizontal the next, looking into the white grey sky while snowflakes landed on my lashes.  Every time I landed with a surreal “whump” in the soft snow, my child would say, “Um, are you going to get up soon?”   It wasn’t my finest hour, 105 minutes actually, but who’s counting?

The mailmen in my area had precious moments as well.  In the first wave of the snowpocalypse we had a Postman who came down the hill in his van with chains.  Though I didn’t witness it, I found him on our sidewalk/front yard having lost a chain during his ascent.  “Do you need a shovel?” I called, coming out of the house to check on the hummingbird feeder.  “Oh no, I’m fine thank you! I just lost the rear chain; I’ve got it back on now.” He called out confidently.  Secretly, I was a bit worried for him; I have observed that chains can give drivers a false sense of security around hills.  When he reached the top of the road I heard him spinning out but he managed somehow because he wasn’t outside when I ventured out for a walk half an hour later.   My suspicions were proved true however when, 20 minutes later, I rounded a corner and found the same Postie who had just sideswiped some mailboxes.  At that moment, 5 men were trying to maneuver his van out of the ditch.  It was an epic moment, man against snow against ditch against the postal service; the epitome of an extreme survival documentary. I didn’t stay to watch however, as it wasn’t a place for a woman; kind of like in the old days when only men attended boxing matches.  There was a limit to the number of bad ideas I could stomach in a day.    

So on Friday when I saw a large postal truck coming down our hill, I groaned in despair.  “What is he doing?” I asked no one in particular, as he roared down the hill.  “This is not going to end well.”  

“But there is some bare concrete out there Mum and it looks like he has chains,” my eldest replied looking out the window.  “I remain unconvinced.” I replied.

I have mentioned that I live on a hill but I have not confessed is that my home occupies a very specific location on this inclined plane.  Khan Academy has great videos explaining “the components of the force due to gravity that are parallel and perpendicular to the surface of an inclined plane.”  I can’t understand these videos at all but I do know I live at the exact spot on the hill that gravity asserts itself in an undeniable way and cars blow their engines while their drivers attempt to deny the existence of physics and Khan Academy videos. 

I live where cars die.

Which is why I can recognize the sound of a postal truck in distress.  Putting on my boots with fantastic traction, I sauntered down the hill to the stranded postal worker.  “Bless your heart.  You are stuck.”  (Bless, then state the obvious, I think I read that in a Christian bestseller.)  “I know.” He was a few years my junior and still feeling upbeat.  “I saw the pavement and thought I could make it.”

“Your first mistake good sir, this hill is known for its siren song.  The pavement calls out but it really wants to kill you.  Were you just feeling brave?”

“We have so much mail." He groaned. " We are so behind in our deliveries, I woke up this morning and thought, ‘Today I’m gonna try get it done.’” He swung his arm in an atta-boy motion to prove his initial enthusiasm.

“And now the universe is punishing you?” I queried.

“Exactly.”

“Would you like a shovel?  I’m not sure if it will help, but I have one handy.”

“That would be great.”

And with that, Mr. Mailman walked up the hill and borrowed the shovel from my front step. We chatted about the snowpocalyse some more and he set off down the hill to dig himself out.  Fifteen minutes later I heard the familiar whine of sliding wheels followed by silence.  When I next stuck my head out the door, I saw two cars behind the postman and a little group gathering.  I ventured back outside to check on everyone’s well being.  When I arrived my immediate concern was for Mr. Postman who looked like he was going to have a heart attack.  Everyone else looked healthy and was filled with helpful suggestions.  There was a small woman with 4 wheel drive (her truck had 4 wheel drive, not her) who clearly wanted Mr. Postman to get out of her way.  Mr. Postman would have liked nothing more than to disappear, which is probably why he went back into the truck and tromped on the gas once more and managed to rip the chains clear off the back right wheel.  That was a fairly low point for all of us.  About then, a fellow named Larry showed up with half a bag of cat litter.  I thought this was and entirely awesome offering to a Post office funded community event.  Larry, not deterred by his humble offering, spread it under the wheels and encouraged Mr. Postman to try again.  Mr. Postman complied and the van actually moved about a foot, which is why Mr. Postman got excited, floored his vehicle and ended up blowing the remaining chain and wrapping it around the back left axle.   The van made a horrible banging noise, shuddered and Postman cut the engine. Larry lamented not having a full bag of cat litter and the passing of his cat which left him at a deficit on numerous levels.

“I think,” said our friend Mr. Postman (because by now we were all friends), “I’m gonna have to call this in.”  We agreed this was the sensible thing to do and offered our congratulations for a solid attempt at problem solving.  People took turns chatting with Mr. Postman while he awaiting the tow truck which came about an hour later.  It was pretty near the most exciting thing that had happened in two weeks on our street. 

It was precious.

And so I am thinking of you my friend as you wait before the Lord for solutions and answers to your many needs.  I know you have “called it in,” praying, waiting and hoping for something to change.  You are waiting for this trial to be over, so that you might get moving again.  I wanted to remind you that you are precious.  Precious when you fall, precious when you try and precious when all you can do is wait.  I’m praying that you might be encouraged by the care that is around you even when it proves not to hold the answer.  Waiting for the Lord is not wasted time for those who believe. 

Praying you have the grace to endure.

xoxKaren