Category Archives: Outdoor world

A Good Friday Surprise

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Spring is inching its way into our neighborhood. After a winter that’s lasted too long, the forsythia, daffodils and blue-bells are a treat. Ground covers are blooming, and once in a while we stay above the 30’s overnight.

This morning as Jack and I started our walk, the strangest thing happened. Half-a-block from home we saw a sad-looking daffodil lying on the road, dusted with dirt. The stem had been neatly cut at an angle, but there it lay without explanation.

I stepped over it, and we continued on. Fifty yards further we saw another one… and another… and finally several. The only possibility I could imagine was a woman setting her flower vase on the car roof for a minute, then forgetting it was there as she drove away.

Jack and I pursued our walk, but at the farthest point from home, it began to pour. We picked up the pace, and I thought of the mysterious daffodils now lying in the mud. Deciding to rescue them, we walked past the house, retracing our steps to retrieve the flowers.

Mentally creating an Easter bouquet, I also snapped a piece of evergreen growing near the road to frame the daffodils. After gently swishing everything in a bowl of water and putting them in a crystal vase, they were an eye-catching display.

Tonight as I studied my pretty bouquet, God brought an old memory to mind. Mary and I were little girls and Mom was teaching us to sew. “We’ll make sachets for your drawers,” she said. “Your underwear will smell fresh, just like the outdoors!”

She took us out and directed us to the same type of evergreen I’d put with my daffodils this morning. “Pick this kind,” she’d said. “It smells best.” She’d pinched a small sprig between her fingers, putting it under our noses to prove her point.

We stripped our branches until all we had were piles of green “needles”. The room filled with a woodsy aroma, and I still have the pine sachet I made that day, sewn with a nine-year-old’s crude stitching.

Tonight God revealed an important Good Friday lesson having to do with that evergreen. In order for us to be included in heaven’s promise, Jesus needed to be crushed, much like Mom squeezed that sprig years ago to release its good scent. As excruciating as it was for the Father to turn away from his suffering Son, it was the only way we could have experienced salvation. His death became a sweet-smelling sacrifice to the Father.

As I looked in amazement at my bouquet, the Lord whispered something else. “Although you stepped over the dirty daffodils and picked them up only as an afterthought, I’ve never stepped over a dirty sinner. None of them, including you, will ever be an afterthought to me. You are front-and-center.

And that’s why I died for you.

“He was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities. Christ… has loved us and given Himself for us, an offering and a sacrifice to God for a sweet-smelling aroma.” (Isaiah 53:5, Ephesians 5:2)

Giving Her All, Part 1 of 2

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Two days ago, Mary and I took the dogs to the beach as usual. It was a chilly, overcast day in the 40’s, and we were bundled in fleece jackets, long pants, socks and shoes. I had a down vest on, too, but was still cold. The stoning was good, though, and as the dogs romped, we walked the water line looking for treasures left by winter storms.

Suddenly, without our notice, an elderly woman appeared right in front of us, startling both of us. We’d never seen her before, and she presented a peculiar picture in a long winter coat, babushka and tennis shoes, dragging two half-full, black garbage bags along the sand, as well as a white plastic bag filled with paper trash. Though her steps were small and slow, she was bent with determination.

Because she walked directly up to us I said, “We’re collecting stones. What are you collecting?”

Without pausing as she passed she said, “Raked leaves. It’s easier to drag them on the sand than on the road.”

“Where did the leaves come from?” I said.

“My last job.”

“Where was that?”

“Up there,” she said, nodding toward the houses on the dune.

We walked alongside her, fascinated. “Where are you taking them?” Mary said.

“I’m going to stow my gear at my next job.”

“Where’s that?”

“Down that way,” she said, tipping her head toward the creek.

We reached for the heavy bags saying, “Let us help you.” But she yanked them toward herself saying, “No.” How could this woman, in her 70’s, be employed to rake leaves and dispose of them? It didn’t make sense.

Mary said, “You won’t be able to cross the creek today. It’s too wide and is over your knees. You’ll get your shoes and pants wet.”

The woman kept trudging along. “My feet are hot and could use a cooling off.”

She made it clear she didn’t want our help, so we found a spot to sit, waiting to see what would happen. Suddenly she dropped her bags and said, “I forgot my rake.”

Turning around, she slowly walked back the way she came, traveling the length of two football fields before disappearing in the bluff grasses. “I’ll bet she won’t be back for her garbage,” I said.

But 15 minutes later we saw her dark form reappear, heading our way. Sure enough, she was dragging an ancient rake with claw-like tines. When she reached her bags, she gathered them up with difficulty after adding the rake to her burdens,  and resumed her steady march toward the creek. As she approached the rushing water, she paused, struggled to raise her bags up high, then stepped in, shoes and all.

Half way across she stumbled and fell face-first into the water. All but the top of her rounded back went under, and she didn’t move.

(…continued tomorrow)

“Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.” (Hebrews 13:2)

Staying Power

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When Jack and I were walking toward the beach today, I couldn’t keep my eyes off the ground. Springy-green shoots are poking up everywhere, a lovely sight after such a cold, snowy winter.

It’s a wonder how dead-looking patches of ground come alive right on schedule according to God’s dictate of the seasons. Some plants have to make their way through piles of soggy leaves that have blanketed them since last fall. Others actually wiggle their way out from under rocks or sidewalks.

But today we saw the ultimate in perseverance, two tender shoots making their way up through an unforgiving hunk of asphalt. Seeing such a display of wonder made me turn around and head home for the camera. I admired those little plants and hoped they would grow into lush day lilies with roots pulling nourishment from the soil beneath the asphalt.

We all know families who seem to be steamrolled by circumstances as rough as that asphalt over soft greenery. Some of these people give up in despair, but others never lose hope and make it through with determination and pluck.

But because determination and pluck are boot-strap resources that do have a limit, it’s best to garner our stick-to-it-tiveness from a source other than ourselves. God offers to supply whatever we need to wage war against negative circumstances.

A pertinent hymn we sang as kids went like this:

When we have exhausted our store of endurance,
When our strength has failed ere the day is half done,
When we reach the end of our hoarded resources
Our Father’s full giving has only begun. (Annie Flint)

I love those words, because when we’re living in the first three lines (exhausted, failed, the end), suddenly the last line gives us a happy ending. Not only is God willing to pick up the slack for us, he’s just getting started. With him there’s always more. Such knowledge is enough to pull us back to our feet to go another round.

People who live like this, triumphing over struggles by taking advantage of God’s supply, are heartening to the rest of us, too. Although they aren’t usually aware we’re watching, we are. And we find ourselves saying, “If God did it for them, he’ll do it for me.”

This morning just before Jack and I left the asphalt-plants, I noticed something strange. The greenery appeared to have been given a haircut, the unmistakable calling card of a deer. These baby lilies lived through a harsh winter, made it up through hard asphalt, and now have endured being nibbled on.

It’ll be interesting to watch what happens next.

“In [the Lord’s] hand is the life of every living thing.” (Job 12:10a)