Growing Pains

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Every season has its beauties, but spring might just be the most eagerly anticipated of them all. Here in southwest Michigan we’ve had an exceptionally frosty winter but finally are noticing bits of neighborhood greenery…. with great joy.

Back again!Last fall our friend Teddy planted dozens of hosta plants in my small yard, plants that were given to us by a generous friend. All winter I thought of those gnarly-looking roots buried beneath frozen dirt with a couple of feet of snow on top of them. Would they make it through? Would we see them again when spring finally arrived?

And now spring is here.

New growthIt was two weeks ago that I first began noticing other people’s perennials surfacing, but ours were still a no-show. I wondered if the transplant last October might have been too much for them. Or had they sat in my buckets too long between being uprooted and put under again?

I gently raked around the spots where the root balls had been planted, clearing away stray ivy vines, acorns, and stones along the way. I didn’t want anything to hinder their appearance. Still, two weeks after seeing other gardens take on a green glow, our hostas were MIA. I continued to check on them with hope.

Though I don’t have a very green thumb, I think that springtime anticipation of new growth is part of what draws people back to all the hard labor gardening requires, year after year. Is it possible that’s the way we ought to think about spiritual growth, too? Shouldn’t we have the same eager expectation?

Sometimes I’m not sure we even want spiritual growth. Once we learn that becoming more Christ-like usually comes wrapped in difficulties, asking for it is tantamount to asking for trouble. Like a new gardener hoping for a showcase yard without too much planting, weeding, and watering, we’d rather become spiritually mature without all the trials and tribulations.

But regardless, whether we’re feeling up for another growth spurt or comfortable where we are, asking God to take us further with him will always be a valuable prayer. And he’ll always answer it with a yes.

Sure, it will most likely be a laborious process just as yard work is difficult, but the satisfaction we experience when our perennials peek through the dirt can’t compare to an increased understanding of God and his ways.

They made it!As for my hostas, yesterday I checked one more time, and lo and behold, I found several tiny green points reaching for the sun. I was so happy, I let out a whoop that even startled Jack. May I be even more excited than that to see the tiniest sign of growth in Christ…. in my life.

“Let us leave the elementary doctrine of Christ and go on to maturity.” (Hebrews 6:1)

Four Disappointments

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Playland.On Wednesdays I get to play with Emerald until 8:30 pm while Birgitta attends classes, and though there’s lots to do at “MeeMee’s house,” sometimes it’s fun to go elsewhere. Last Wednesday we decided to head for a Michigan City McDonald’s where we’ve often enjoyed a kiddie playland. Emerald’s “Auntie Weezi,” who lives nearby, agreed to meet us there.

We arrived a few minutes early, so I decided to catch up on texting while Emerald played in the driver’s seat, her new fascination. It wasn’t 5 minutes before Louisa arrived, and we went in. But what a surprise to find the entire Playland had been torn down in preparation for remodeling. That was disappointment #1.

Heading back to the car to seek other entertainment, we discovered my battery was dead. Emerald had turned on the headlights during her playtime behind the wheel. Disappointment #2.

Jumper cablesBut Weezi saved the day! Unbelievably, she had jumper cables in her trunk, so all we needed was someone to hook them up. (We both knew approximately what to do, but a little knowledge is a dangerous thing.)

As we stood between the two cars eyeing people coming and going, a cable-angel appeared out of nowhere, a young man in a navy pea coat.

“Do you know anything about jumping cars?” I asked.

“Sure,” he said, taking the cables from Weezi.

But when he clicked them together, they didn’t spark. “I don’t think they’re any good,” he said. Disappointment #3.

“Could we try anyway?” I said, hoping God would somehow energize the cables just this once. But our cable-angel was right. They were, indeed, dead. Disappointment #4.

“I’ll find someone with good cables,” he said, heading toward McDonalds. “Really?” we said, but within two minutes, he and a uniformed McDonalds employee emerged waving car keys.

cables“In my trunk!” the employee said, retrieving his cables and bringing them over. When my car sprung to life, Louisa and I applauded, but the cable-angel brushed it off like it was nothing.

“Wait,” I said, reaching for my purse. “Let us give you something.”

“Absolutely not,” he said, walking back toward McDonalds.

“Can’t we at least buy you a burger?” I said, waving a bill at him.

“Nope. Glad to help!” he said, disappearing inside.

Standing between our purring cars, we realized that his one good deed had obliterated our four disappointments. And how good it felt to be on the receiving end of an unexpected blessing.

Of course the take-away is that we ought to be doing the same for others. Though playing the part of an angel is inconvenient, being a blessing to a needy person makes both parties feel pretty good. And surely it must bless God, too.

At the wheelEmerald never saw a playland, but she had some good fun in my driver’s seat. And the dead battery that resulted brought some good fun to Louisa and me, too.

“A good man brings good things out of the good stored up in him.” (Matthew 12:35)

A-maze-ing

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When I was a kid, one of summertime’s greatest pleasures was visiting an amusement park. Although no one had yet heard of Six Flags, the Chicago area had Riverview, and southwest Michigan had Silver Beach. We took advantage of both places as often as our parents would let us. It helped that even the best rides cost only a quarter, and on five-cent day, they were all a nickel.

ParachutesThough we loved the roller coasters best, both parks offered all kinds of other excitement. One had a free-fall ride called the Parachutes with nothing more than a flat swing-seat and a limp chain to keep us from tumbling out. The other had a Fun House with a slide several stories high.

We also got a kick out of sitting on a flat disk the size of a living room that spun so fast not one rider could fight centrifugal force enough to stay on. Kids flew off at high speed onto carpet that gave them lots of pink rug burns — battle wounds, we’d say.

Something else both places offered was a Maze. Made with a dazzling array of sheeted glass and mirror, they fooled even the cautious. I learned by experience that over-confidence in a maze was a sure-fire way to go home with a goose-egg on your forehead.

Mirror MazeThese mazes were put together with their panels set at 45-degree angles, confusing us further by our own reflections, not just in front of us but in back, on the side, and “way over there.” It’s the perfect definition of “meeting yourself com- ing and going.” But we paid to get lost in them again and again.

Once in a while life itself seems like a maze, especially when it comes to making important decisions. The process can be much like finding our way through an amusement park maze: part frustration, part fascination. Just when we’re sure we see the way out, we slam into a dead-end…. sometimes with consequences far more damaging than goose-eggs.

So how are we to make wise choices?

By questioning God. But when we ask him, “Is it this or that?” we should be prepared to hear, “The other.”

Maze.God doesn’t do things conventionally, because he’s got ideas that would knock our socks off if he showed us all at once. So when we ask for decision-help, his guidance may not make immediate sense. That’s because he’s already way down the road in front of us, like a friend in a mirrored maze who we see but have no idea how to get to.

The important thing is that God isn’t out to deceive us the way maze designers are. His desire is just the opposite of theirs, not to trap us but to move us in an orderly way toward the good conclusion he has in mind. And as we trust his wisdom over our own, he’ll even get us there without any goose-eggs.

“Show me the way I should go, for to you I entrust my life.” (Psalm 143:8)