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.

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.

Proverbs 22:1

Wandering Through the Bible shared Stefanie Hutcheson's video.

August 15

What's in a name? Hmn. A lot! Our names define us, label us, and allow us to be specified to when in a crowd. For instance, if we were all Johns and/or Susies and were in a place and someone shouted out "Hey John!" or "Hey Susie!" there would be no way of telling us apart, no way of knowing just which John and/or Susie was being referred to.

Many of us were named after someone so there is an expectancy, a heritage to live up to. Today I had a new "nephew" born and he was given a biblical name so his parents, in their own way, have some preset expectations for him. Others of us were not named after any specific soul, so our destinies have not been preordained to be fulfilled in any certain way.

Proverbs 22:1 states that: A good name is more desirable than great riches; to be esteemed is better than silver or gold. It's nice when we can fulfill the suggestions of the Bible in order to become better people. But what about those of us who have names that we feel…well, less than proud of? Ashamed of even. What of us whose names bear negative connotations that we had nothing to do with yet are branded with?

Lately, I have been considering having my name legally changed. Not my married name but my so-called maiden name. My reasons are many but most deal with the fact that the "family name" makes me feel shame. I have avoided using it and hate those forms that I have to fill out that ask for it. In fact, I shun using it as much as possible and even when I catch up with old high school and/or college buddies that knew me by it, I try to get them to just remember me as "Stef with an F" or via friends I hung out with. Lastly, I want rid of this name because it reminds me of my mother disowning me in her last will and testament. The anniversary of her death is in a couple of weeks and she has been on my mind.

Did you ever read Arthur Miller's book "The Crucible"? In it, John Proctor, the protagonist of the story, was accused of witchcraft (when in fact it was adultery that was his sin). Here's a quick recap, via SparkNotes:

"Because it is my name! Because I cannot have another in my life! Because I lie and sign myself to lies! Because I am not worth the dust on the feet of them that hang! How may I live without my name? I have given you my soul; leave me my name!"

Proctor utters these lines at the end of the play, in Act IV, when he is wrestling with his conscience over whether to confess to witchcraft and thereby save himself from the gallows. The judges and Hale have almost convinced him to do so, but the last stumbling block is his signature on the confession, which he cannot bring himself to give. In part, this unwillingness reflects his desire not to dishonor his fellow prisoners: he would not be able to live with himself knowing that other innocents died while he quaked at death's door and fled. More important, it illustrates his obsession with his good name. Reputation is tremendously important in Salem, where public and private morality are one and the same. Early in the play, Proctor's desire to preserve his good name keeps him from testifying against Abigail. Now, however, he has come to a true understanding of what a good reputation means and what course of action it necessitates—namely, that he tell the truth, not lie to save himself. "I have given you my soul; leave me my name!" he rages; this defense of his name enables him to muster the courage to die, heroically, with his goodness intact.

So, again I ask, what's in a name? Sigh. So so very much. Our reputations and what we stand for, Who we stand for, are often put on the line when our surnames are spoken. Rather than one of shame, guilt, and all those other negative words, I want mine to stand for truth, faith, and pride in being called a child of God. Do I have to go to legal lengths to get it done? Possibly. Or I could keep it as (another) thorn in my flesh: it can be a reminder that I'm not who I was, I'm not the same as my "family" was, and then perhaps I could use it as a witness of how far Jesus has brought me. But truthfully, the more I think about it, the more I want it gone. Each time I see it in print, it brings back yucky memories. Each time I hear it spoken, I cringe as I remember those to whom it belongs. It doesn't belong to me.

You know that song "There's A New Name Written Down in Glory"? When Christ adopted me into His family, I was given a new name when He wrote it down in The Book of Life. That took place long before I knew the dysfunctions of my heritage and I am so thankful that He did that for me. As I approach my sunset years, I think I am going to go ahead and take the steps to remove that old name from my books as well. I've got plenty of thorns still to poke me so why not get rid of one that can be taken care of with little effort? Besides, it's rare that it is used at all. Removing it from legal documents will alleviate one source of discomfort for me that will in a small way assist me. I won't have to be jabbed out of the blue and have to relive things that are best forgotten.

In conclusion, a good name is to be treasured above all. Watch this clip from a couple of years ago when my grandson Walker feared that the ocean was about to wipe his away. Even small children know the value of great things.

Let's pray.

Dear Father in Heaven,

Thank You for the opportunity to have a good name through Your Son Jesus Christ. As I embark on the legalities of having my maiden name removed from my life, help me to also remove other hindrances that keep me from bringing honor to You. Baby steps. One step at a time. Lord, I want to be like You and I cannot do it if I have so many stumbling stones that keep tripping me up. You know how I like to be bare-footed: help me to have a path that is straight and debris free. In Jesus' Name I ask, amen.