TO YOU, DEAR FELLOW TENDERS OF THE TENDER:
I’ve spent decades talking to God while planting, pruning, and weeding. Hence my recent garden blues with a slow-burn ache.
Time is an issue. I’m surrendering half my personal Eden.
Y.e.s. and . . .
In the lull between two bites
of the spade, I strip away
starry carpets of sedum
and budding thyme — mounded
plantings knelt over
for decades. Next,
yank the barrier fabric
weighted with bark chips
gone rogue, riddled
solid with roots — tendrilled,
or stout as parsnips. Hard to uproot
dew-loving borders in bloom,
aromatic lavender, pungent sage.
Out with those aspen saplings,
summer’s taffeta rustle
silenced. Mercy keeps nudging:
Stay simple to go deep.
Bless the bed, graveled over.
***
STILL, I GROUSE, as if hardships aren’t known for cultivating wisdom, each hard pruning gradually boosting resilience, setting hearts free.
Imagine Mary’s “y.e.s.” to Gabriel. She must:
Yield . . . to impossibility
Embody . . . scandal
Stretch . . . in ways she cannot foresee
My version?
Yelp . . . Practical, sure, but wow, it hurts
Erupt . . . I’m too old for hard labor
Self-soothe . . . I deserve a massage, a nap, more chocolate
Not exactly Mary’s “Be it unto me according to your word.”
Can this honest,
half-grudging heart chuckle,
shrug,
nudge closer to God?
“We must pray not first of all because it feels good or helps, but because God loves us and wants our attention.” So says James E. Miller in The Art of the Healing Presence.
MAYBE START WITH A WHISPERED VALENTINE: Lord, I love you.
No agenda, no hidden motives. No bargaining.
Yes . . . to being, breathing, listening.
In The Road to Daybreak, an intimate diary of writer Henri Nouwen, readers see him prayerfully poised to forsake his cherished academic career for caregiving. He’s scared. Resistant. Sad. How to go the distance?
FOUR WORDS, spoken by a fellow priest, inspire him. Be faithful in adoration.
Prayer, itself, heals us, Nouwen adds. “Not just the answer to prayer.”
Yes, it’s hard to embrace change. Long-tended plants give way to gravel. Shared interests with a beloved alter; in some cases, cease.
As we more deeply believe that perfect Love is directing a vital reconfiguration, might simple acts of kindness unfurl more gracefully? Foreshadow, perhaps, a more generous, inner transfiguration?
Jesus said, For I was hungry . . . thirsty . . . sick . . . a stranger.
Over time, people we love can seem like strangers.
And the Savior still says, “I tell you the truth, whatever you do for one of the least of these brothers [and sisters] of mine, you do for me.”
Will we emulate Mary: open, questioning yet faithful, in adoration? What about the woman in Mark 14 — the one who poured out what wealth she had to anoint the Savior for burial?
Jesus said of her, “She did what she could when she could.”
Yearn. Engage. Serve.
Y.E.S. Oh, yes.
Friends, what turns your eyes back to God?
Here’s a past photo essay you might enjoy: “Natural . . . infinite . . . yes”
Photo by Kyle Hinkson on Unsplash
Oh my–such wisdom here, Laurie. You are so right: Each hard pruning gradually boosts resilience and sets hearts free. I can honestly say that the difficulties we’ve faced have indeed boosted our resilience, strengthened our faith and our character, and worked to set our hearts free from pride, misplaced priorities, self-reliance, and more. Praise God, Perfect Love is always directing a vital reconfiguration (2 Corinthians 3:18)! I also appreciate that Nouwen quote you shared: “Prayer, itself, heals us, not just the answer to prayer.” Praise God for that too! I continue to pray for you and Dreamer.
Nancy, I am nodding over your expanded list of specific ways God’s pruning can set our hearts free. So insightful.
The Corinthians reference is beautifully apt, thank you. “Unveiled faces,” indeed . . . and the growing resemblance to our Maker and Savior. Lord, may it be so!
Thank you for your prayers, friend. It means so much knowing love and faith — with skin on — come alongside us as the Spirit directs, interceding for us, even long distance covering us in caring, confident-in-Christ ways.
Blessings on you!
Oh, dear Lauri
I really don’t have much to say
You said enough sharing…
FOUR WORDS, spoken by a fellow priest, inspire him. Be faithful in adoration.
Prayer, itself, heals us, Nouwen adds. “Not just the answer to prayer.”
We have a new puppy, a Shih Tzu
Her name is Charlee
Her excitement to see me in the morning, getting onto my lap and into my face, is an every day reminder of God‘s desiring the same
He and I face-to-face
My adoration
Sitting still isn’t easy
Ever grateful for offerings like yours
That sharpen me
Timely
I’ve been invited to Henri Nouwen’s grave for 21 September
The 30th anniversary of his death
A dear friend of mine, who knew Henri, will be leading this commemoration with a celebration of the Eucharist at Henri’s gravesite
Have yet to say yes to the invitation
It’s quite the drive
I think I will today
Thank you for the nudge
Oh, my,
You, face-to-face
with Charlee:
her wriggling delight,
her gaze,
her near-boneless, sleepy trust
over-spilling your lap,
all tuckered out,
adorable
and also profound,
the beloved & the Master . . .
Thank you.
And Godspeed, should you make that long drive. I hadn’t realized how long ago Henri left us. He feels so present in his writings.
Also wishing you and yours deep peace and comfort, friend.
Beautiful Laurie.
Thank you, Cristine. What a gift to read this just now. Thank you for the ways you’ve encouraged me over the years. Blessings on you!
What turns my eyes back to God? An extended family member passing yesterday. I thought my eyes were on God praying for him, all those many months praying through one loss after another and urging God to give those invisible gifts I cannot know without dying this way. But it was his death, the last passing, that put new light to my squinty, questioning, eyes. A turning of sight toward Almighty, I cannot describe more than a closer view. Not terrifying, but maybe a little–seeing the all-ness of my belief enlarged in a breathtaking way.
Susan, I am saddened alongside you; heartened, too, as you welcome his release into wholeness and joy unspeakable. Thank you for offering these words for what you’re experiencing. The “closer view” you speak of, as well as the growing perception of Love’s vast “all-ness” that crowds out breath and buckles the knees . . . it’s scary-sobering-hopeful to read about and try to imagine.
And you are living it . . .
May Loving Mercy enfold you and the family.