Still Reading

I'm still reading the Bible, a few chapters each night.  I've reached chapter 28 in Genesis and I'm enjoying it for the intricacies of the story.  It's amazing how many details one forgets after a few years, so some parts feel almost brand new.

I'm learning a lot about human nature and also seeing some of the choices people made in those days through my "counsellor eyes."  What would I say to a client who tells me that, because her husband is afraid of the power of the ruling noble in their new country, she has to pretend to be not her husband's wife but his sister?  That's what Abraham made Sarah do ... and she did it!  Abraham allowed her to be taken into the ruler's household as one of his women!  What kind of a marriage was that?  How would I help this woman regain trust and confidence in her husband?  How could she respect him after that?

 And we haven't changed that much yet in our day and age.  I've had clients struggling with relationships in which their partner tries to force them to have sex with someone else.  These days we call that abuse ... and I wonder if God didn't think the same when Abraham's cowardice put Sarah into such an abusive situation.  But God also saw the good in Abraham and kept reassuring him that he would see the fruition of all God's promises to him.

 How encouraging it is for me to know that there's always hope; perhaps I've made some wrong choices but God can work through, or around, them.  My weaknesses don't have to stop his plans for me, which is, of course, much more than I, or any of us, deserve.

I'm going to read a few more chapters now.  What will I discover about human beings and God tonight?

Every Once-In-A-While

A few days ago I did something I hadn't done in years.  I opened my Bible and began to read the first chapter of Genesis.  I read until I was tired and then I went to bed.  The next night I picked up where I had left off and read a few more chapters in Genesis.  And on the third night ... and on the fourth night.

 Then I missed a couple of nights and today I can hardly wait to read again.  But I don't know what made me pick up the Bible and begin at the beginning last week.  I'd read the Bible from cover to cover three times before in my life.  The first time was in my teens (I wasn't your "typical" teenager, I guess).  Then I read it again in my later twenties when I experienced a renewal of my faith.  In my early forties I went back to school for a Masters degree in counselling psychology and chose to study at a faith-based institution.  One of the requirements for my basic Bible courses was to read the entire Bible over the two semesters of the first year.

These days I read daily biblical passages, usually those prescribed in the Church's three-year Lectionary rotation, on a fairly regular basis.  I participate in Bible studies and faith-sharing groups, and even a prayer group I belonged to for many years focused on the Sunday readings.  It's not as though I've ignored the Bible since I last read it from cover to cover.

But now, almost fifteen years later, fairly late most evenings, I'm reading it that way again.  

 I think the Spirit draws me to it in a deeper way periodically but I have no explanation for why it would be now.  Of course, I could have said the same thing about the other times.  No reason; just picked it up and began one day and then continued reading until it was done.  I guess there are times when it just feels like something I need to do, maybe because sometimes I need the bigger picture.

All of the old Testament is about why we need Jesus.  It's the story of human beings and their on-again and off-again relationship with God.  I like my writing to be real, grounded in real people, and and all about our real responses to the predicament of being human and living in a world that once was perfect but is now a real mess, thanks to what we've done with it.  And there's no better place to learn all of that than in the Bible.

A Perfect Day

I do believe I just experienced a perfect day here on my country mile, at least so far.  There are thunder clouds building to the south and west but even the rain they might bring could be the perfect ending to a perfect day, as it would save me having to water my garden more thoroughly than I did this morning.

The perfection began with the discovery that the day was warm, sunny and breezy, whereas I had expected it to be dismal, cool, and rainy.  That just goes to show we shouldn’t take the weather forecast as gospel truth.  And actually, my perfect day began the night before, when I slept nearly eight hours, worth celebrating if you’re a chronic insomniac, as I am.  Good days come so much more easily when you’re not exhausted.

In this perfect day I had time to weed my garden, replant the cucumbers that were destroyed by the hail a couple of nights ago, water and fertilize my flower pots, run several loads of laundry and dry a couple of them on the clothesline, write a pretty good first draft (if I do say so myself) of a column for ChristianWeek, and rest with my feet up on the deck for an hour or so.

The sun was blazing hot but relieved by a stiff wind, which cooled things down just when I thought it was getting too hot and kept the worst of the biting insects at bay while I worked outside.  Later, fluffy white clouds broke up the intensity of the heat as I sat on the deck listening to bird calls and periodic train whistles.

 It was truly a day to be content … and indeed I was, content and grateful.  Grateful for the sunshine, the wind, the birds, gardening chores, time to write, and time to pray and dream.  Grateful, too, for this sheltering green space here at the end of my country mile, a beautiful, green-forested piece of the world that I can call home.

Counting Those Chickens

How happy I was in those days after Jenn planted my garden for me.  I was literally tasting the green beans already, even though only the tiniest curl of leaves had just barely begun to poke though the soil in only a few places.  As far as I was concerned, though, it was a done deal; in my mind the vines were already taller than I and yielding buckets and buckets of crisp, mouth-wateringly tasty beans.

And the best part, I thought smugly, was that we had planted so late this year that I wouldn't have to worry about frost.  After all, it was already June.

Well, I'm sure you know as well as I what they say about counting your chickens before they're hatched and pride before a fall.  On Tuesday evening Mother Nature taught me a lesson.  And, no, it wasn't frost, at least not in the way you might think.  Here's a shot of what Tuesday evening's thunderstorm brought to my country mile.

Yup.  Two inches of pebble-sized hail, cold enough that it didn't melt completely until the sun hit it Wednesday morning.  So my tiny, fragile, treasured little baby bean plants had a stinging cold shower of ice pellets to welcome them into the world.

My tomatoes took quite a beating but I think they'll make it; my grown-from-seed cucumbers "bit the dust" (mud, actually) and won't survive but I was able to buy replacements; and the beans were still so tiny that I don't think they sustained any damage, other than the trauma of a cold bath!

It would have been a pity, after all Jenn's hard work and all my "exhausting" supervising, if the damage had been more significant.  That Mother Nature is one sly gal.  I'm going to try not to fantasize about tasting those beans until they're actually on my plate!

Garden Angel

Several years ago my daughter, Jenn, gave me a gift that I instantly fell in love with, a beautiful garden angel.  When I plant my garden each year, it never feels quite finished until my garden angel is set in place to keep a watchful eye on how well it's growing.

Isn't she beautiful?  And I love the sense of peace and serenity the simple verse evokes in me each time I read it.

And now my garden angel has a name.  Just today, as I set her into her special place, I realized I have to name her after my Jenn who gave her to me.  Because Jenn planted that whole garden for me today! 

I've not been as mobile this spring as I usually am and other forces of life and nature were conspiring against me ever getting the garden planted.  When it's already June 3 and your health dictates that you do only a little bit each day, and you have to work the next three days, but the forecast calls for rain again tomorrow ... well, there was my dilemma, and I was feeling the pressure.

I had reluctantly decided that maybe I would have to pass on having a garden this year, when I had another idea.  Perhaps I could ask Jenn for help?  Oh but I hate to admit I can't do something; I don't want to give more power to my chronic pain, Jenn might think I'm getting too old and weak to manage here, Jenn might say that if I'm not up to planting it I shouldn't expect to have one, Jenn has a career as a gifted photographer and might have bookings today ... oh, I had a hundred reasons why I shouldn't ask for help!

But I swallowed my pride (yes, that's what those hundred reasons were really all about) and called, offering to share the produce with her in return for all that hard work.  Do you suppose she said any of the things I was imagining and using as excuses not to call?  Of course not!  What she said was something like, "Oh, I'd love to.  My back yard is under water from all the rain and it looks like it won't be dry in time for me to have a garden this year.  I love planting and I'd love some of the fresh produce when it's ready."

And she came shortly before 11:00 this morning and planted not only the whole garden by 1:30 but, after a quick lunch break, also my hanging flower baskets and half a dozen large pots to adorn the yard.  She truly is my garden angel.  Thanks again, Jenn.