Tuesday, June 3, 2014
Saturday, April 12, 2014
Empty Garden
April 12, 2014
"It's funny how one insect can damage so much grain." These words from Elton John's ballad and tribute to John Lennon rang true in my head yesterday morning on my way to work.
I pushed "replay" and listened to the song again. And again. The words flowed over me and it was as though I could hear Jesus saying to me:
"And I've been knocking but no one answers
And I've been knocking most all the day
Oh and I've been calling oh hey hey Johnny
Can't you come out to play?"
I replaced "Johnny" with my name. I heard Jesus whispering to me that I had been too serious lately, that I needed to play, in the garden--the empty garden--with just Him.
"But Lord," I whispered back, "why is my garden empty? Why have my works produced no grain?"
"It's funny how one insect can damage so much grain." The song played on. What was the insect that damaged my produce, what was the thing that caused my garden to not prosper as I knew it should have? Was it my pride? My being "ahead of my time" for the things I had to share? My being in the wrong place at the wrong time?
The song continued and the tears, hot and furious, poured out of my eyes. I reflected on some of my many efforts at sharing the things Christ has shared with me; how some were successful while others tended to be disregarded by the masses that I was so carefully trying to cultivate. And then I realized: I did plant some seeds. I did do some watering. But it's God--it's YOU, God--that must provide the increase. My garden is empty--in some ways--but it won't always be so. One day I shall see the fruits of my labor and realize the time I invested in trying so (too?) desperately to share my faith was not in vain. While saddened that I may not get to see it this side of heaven, my gentle hubby reminded me last night that it's not about me and if I could just keep that in my head, then my rewards will be so much greater. God will do with my blog, with my stories, with my life what He wills. "Remember Who you are writing for, Stef," he told me. Sigh.
Dear God,
I ask Your forgiveness this morning as I have found myself once again caught up in the flesh. My intentions are pure and my motives are sweet ones. Yet....yet I started making it about me, worrying that I wouldn't be published, worrying that not enough folks were reading my blog, worrying that if I didn't self-promote then the world would just be floundering about, not knowing what to do with itself unless the great and mighty Stef showed them the way.
What a disgrace I am! What pride I have that needs to be shoveled out of my garden. What pruning needs to be done so that my tree and vines can grow, can flourish, through YOUR increase. Not mine.
If I never have another story published, if no one ever reads my blogs, help me God to not care, to not feel diminished but to keep writing for You. For You, Lord God. You are my audience and it is Your approval and commendation I seek most. Please take away my pride and humble me to be Your servant is my prayer this morning. I ask it in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.
Friday, March 7, 2014
I'm sorry but...
Wandering Through the Bible 
I haven't written about my mother in quite a while. However, when I saw this picture, my mind was flooded with memories of when she would say these words to me: "I'm sorry but..." No comma after the "sorry" part to indicate that there was truth to the statement of being apologetic. No, rather it was all one, long, convoluted sentence that pointed blame back at me instead of offering an apology for the things she did that offended me. There was no real truth in the two words that began the conversation. Sigh. It's been about 18 months now since Momma passed. I've made my peace--finally--with the things that were done to me that hindered me for so long. It was a long, slow, painful, soul-searching event. But through the grace of God, through the prayers of friends and family, and through many long, sleepless nights and/or dreams filled with fantasies of how growing up with a loving mother should have been, I made it through the rain. Barry Manilow would be so proud! I miss my mom. I miss the times when we did have a good relationship. I miss the times when I felt she was the greatest woman in the world. I regret that she wasn't the woman she should have been and that she had gotten to meet my grandsons. How sad it is, I've commiserated many times, that her house wasn't the one we all ran to as my siblings and our children, our grandkids, and our spouses celebrated life together. Nieces, nephews, and cousins should have been playing and laughing and rolling on her front yard, climbing in the barns, sharing secrets down by the creek. Such a wasted life, hers was. And mine too. My grandson shouldn't sporadically ask me, "Why didn't your mother love you, Granny?" But, the story doesn't have to have an unhappy ending. Many lessons come from bad experiences and I must say, I have been the student of those teachings. Time takes its own sweet time and my hope is that, since I am in a much better place than I was for too long, one day, one day I will see my grandchildren meeting their cousins and aunts and uncles. They may just roam those former tobacco fields, maybe even sled down the hills that I grew up on, and forge new and wonderful relationships that generated from this one woman who birthed four children, three of whom are still alive, and forever bonded by blood. I'd rather write "bonded by love" but... we're not there yet. So, in conclusion, there was a lot to be sorry for in the time that we were allowed together, my mother and I. Too much of it was carelessly tossed away and cannot ever be regained. Am I sorry? Oh yeah! My regrets are many and some hurts are still healing, yet my hope remains that all was not lost, that the good times can be reminisced over while new memories will be made with the ones she left behind, memories that are helpful and not hurtful. Memories that only make me cry happy tears rather than bitter ones. Memories that, in spite of the past, the future can be one of love with no excuses, no buts, and far fewer regrets unless they are that we all couldn't get together more often. It can happen! Will it? Tune in and see! Dear Lord, as my eyes are still leaking, I reach out to You for comfort. How my mother hurt me, Lord! How I hurt her! We shamed You so with our inability to forgive and to let love conquer all. I don't want my legacy to be one of shame nor one that tears apart my family, God. Please help me each minute of my life to be mindful of the words I say, the actions I display, and the favoritism shown that makes one feel more highly while the other feels forlorn. May I not be that way! May I not love one more than the other! May I not confuse, confound, or discredit any of my family and make them feel unloved or not good enough. May I reflect You, Lord, in all of the people I love--in truth. Oh God! My soul is so sad for the loss of what should have been. I know the past cannot be changed so my hope is that the future, the present, the now will be better for these hard and painful lessons learned. If it be Your will, reunite my siblings and me. Give our kids the opportunity to be better than the sorry examples we have been. I have great-nieces and great-nephews that I have never seen, never held, never smooched on. I want them to know me, to know that Granny Stef or Great-Aunt Stef or whatever it is that want to call me will be a welcomed presence in their lives, one who loves without holding back, and a woman that they can always count on showing them unconditional love. I ask this with my whole heart, in the name of Jesus. Amen.
I haven't written about my mother in quite a while. However, when I saw this picture, my mind was flooded with memories of when she would say these words to me: "I'm sorry but..." No comma after the "sorry" part to indicate that there was truth to the statement of being apologetic. No, rather it was all one, long, convoluted sentence that pointed blame back at me instead of offering an apology for the things she did that offended me. There was no real truth in the two words that began the conversation. Sigh. It's been about 18 months now since Momma passed. I've made my peace--finally--with the things that were done to me that hindered me for so long. It was a long, slow, painful, soul-searching event. But through the grace of God, through the prayers of friends and family, and through many long, sleepless nights and/or dreams filled with fantasies of how growing up with a loving mother should have been, I made it through the rain. Barry Manilow would be so proud! I miss my mom. I miss the times when we did have a good relationship. I miss the times when I felt she was the greatest woman in the world. I regret that she wasn't the woman she should have been and that she had gotten to meet my grandsons. How sad it is, I've commiserated many times, that her house wasn't the one we all ran to as my siblings and our children, our grandkids, and our spouses celebrated life together. Nieces, nephews, and cousins should have been playing and laughing and rolling on her front yard, climbing in the barns, sharing secrets down by the creek. Such a wasted life, hers was. And mine too. My grandson shouldn't sporadically ask me, "Why didn't your mother love you, Granny?" But, the story doesn't have to have an unhappy ending. Many lessons come from bad experiences and I must say, I have been the student of those teachings. Time takes its own sweet time and my hope is that, since I am in a much better place than I was for too long, one day, one day I will see my grandchildren meeting their cousins and aunts and uncles. They may just roam those former tobacco fields, maybe even sled down the hills that I grew up on, and forge new and wonderful relationships that generated from this one woman who birthed four children, three of whom are still alive, and forever bonded by blood. I'd rather write "bonded by love" but... we're not there yet. So, in conclusion, there was a lot to be sorry for in the time that we were allowed together, my mother and I. Too much of it was carelessly tossed away and cannot ever be regained. Am I sorry? Oh yeah! My regrets are many and some hurts are still healing, yet my hope remains that all was not lost, that the good times can be reminisced over while new memories will be made with the ones she left behind, memories that are helpful and not hurtful. Memories that only make me cry happy tears rather than bitter ones. Memories that, in spite of the past, the future can be one of love with no excuses, no buts, and far fewer regrets unless they are that we all couldn't get together more often. It can happen! Will it? Tune in and see! Dear Lord, as my eyes are still leaking, I reach out to You for comfort. How my mother hurt me, Lord! How I hurt her! We shamed You so with our inability to forgive and to let love conquer all. I don't want my legacy to be one of shame nor one that tears apart my family, God. Please help me each minute of my life to be mindful of the words I say, the actions I display, and the favoritism shown that makes one feel more highly while the other feels forlorn. May I not be that way! May I not love one more than the other! May I not confuse, confound, or discredit any of my family and make them feel unloved or not good enough. May I reflect You, Lord, in all of the people I love--in truth. Oh God! My soul is so sad for the loss of what should have been. I know the past cannot be changed so my hope is that the future, the present, the now will be better for these hard and painful lessons learned. If it be Your will, reunite my siblings and me. Give our kids the opportunity to be better than the sorry examples we have been. I have great-nieces and great-nephews that I have never seen, never held, never smooched on. I want them to know me, to know that Granny Stef or Great-Aunt Stef or whatever it is that want to call me will be a welcomed presence in their lives, one who loves without holding back, and a woman that they can always count on showing them unconditional love. I ask this with my whole heart, in the name of Jesus. Amen.
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