Work with Your Hands in this Garden of Life

“And to seek earnestly to be quiet and mind your own affairs, and work with your own hands, even as we charged you.”  I Thessalonians 4:11

My brother, Jim, has many favorite Bible verses, but I think he has included this in more of my Birthday cards and other missives than any other verse.  He generally adds to this that when we take care of our own business “work”, we have less time to worry about what others are doing and less opportunity to be critical of others….less time to judge.  And, less time to feel  the sting of other’s judgment.

The next verse, 12, takes this thought a little further…

Then people who are not Christians will respect the way you live, and you will not need to depend on others.

He and I have discussed that so many times people worry so much what others think that they forget to care about what God thinks.  We agreed that some of our poorest decisions were made because we were making them based on what “man” would think of us.  And, worse still, worry about what man would think and that is the same man who didn’t even have all the facts.

God had all the facts. 

God has all the facts.

God knows our heart.

God hears our prayers.

I find so much comfort in that.  Because, the more you are keeping your own affairs in order, the more you are humbled about what you cannot do and do not know.  The harder I strive to keep my family in order, the more I recognize what a task that is.

And, oddly enough, the more I strive to keep my family in order, the more I recognize the need to lean on God and on His understanding and direction.  I cannot do this life alone.  I know not what to do.  I am in new-garden territory.

Ian and I were discussing yesterday that raising our children and living out our life is like planting our garden…

We have worked hard in our garden.  Ian tilled virgin soil, meaning he took a large, grassy spot and decided that he would till up the hard, grassy soil and make it vegetable garden worthy.  This was no small feat.  We outlined the garden plot and he set tiller to ground.  Four, five times he tilled the grass.  It was full of rocks, stones and even some concrete which had to be 17 years old as that is how old our home is.  Hard it was to pull out the grassy clods and work the tillers blades through the dirt.

So hard in fact, our rotor tiller had a “heart attack” and had to be put into the shop.  Ian wore out it’s engine breaking up ground and had to rent a tiller to finish the job.

True Gut.  Our tiller sits as I write in the shop for tiller heart repair.

If only there was such a place for the heart of us.

But, there is.

And,  it is not in a church building made with brick and mortar.  It’s not in a hospital filled with amazing doctors.

It is in the sanctuary of God’s love.  Where all gardens begin and where He walks with us among the rows and rows of our life’s challenges noting the rocky places and the well-tilled places and the extravagantly blooming places.

God is so wise.  He encourages us in things because he sees the whole picture of our life.  He knows the busier we are setting about to do His work, the more we have to focus on the task at hand and lean on Him and the less we focus on the task of others and lean on ourselves.

I also find it interesting that he says to be quiet.  As a person who likes to talk and write, what does that mean?  Do we be silent?  Do we never say anything?  Do we remove all venues of conversation from our lives?  Remove cell phones, internet and gasp…Facebook?

I have and still do give this much thought and prayer.  I do not have an answer as I write this today.

But, what I have learned is this….if I first give over my garden-life plowings and struggles to God first, there I will find peace.  If I share with him the worries and stresses of my heart, he will carry them for me.  If I hold sacred the foundation for my decision making between myself and our Lord, then I will find respite and calmness.  If I am quiet…if I am working in my own private garden…if I am keeping my hands busy as instructed, then I will be able to focus on the tilling of my own life and will not seek to judge the rows of others’ lives.

And, perhaps most tender to my heart of all of this passage are His words, “then people who are not Christians will respect the way you life.”

This is powerful.

I have at times, so failed in this.  I think we all do.

So, as I plant my earthly garden with Ian, which comes about with great commitment and sweat and tears.  As we till together the soil, breaking up the clods of sin in our lives and the clods of dirt in our garden, I strive to remember that God calls us to work quietly.

And, to work with our hands.

And, to not depend on others or the thoughts of others or the ways of others.

But, to lay down rows and rows and rows of the garden of our lives before Him.

And to wait.

And to watch.

And to be amazed at the Garden He will grow in us.

And, in others.

Blessings,

Lesa

In dedication to my four years (effective April 28th) of survivorship...moreso, in dedication to my "BC" friends who have battled before me, battled with me, battle now and will battle in the future.  To those who, like me, had very early stage breast cancer and moreso to those who are battling serious battles or who have fought the good fight but who are no longer with us.  Cancer does many things to a person....some not so good at all, but some, which can change us forever.

I am grateful for those who traveled and still travel this journey with me.  You are dear to my heart and are God's reflection during a season I so needed His presence.

If you know someone who has cancer, I pray you will reach out to them today in prayer, in thought and if possible, just to hug and love them.  

Top Row, Right

June 7, 2008.

Through the front door of Dr. M's office, to the check-in window, through the door with the sign "for patients only", turn to the right, first door on the right…

Top Row, first cubby on the right

"lesa" printed out on a small index card, waiting.

Normally, I would enjoy seeing my name in print…I like the unique spelling, a portion of my Daddy " Chester Lee" invested in my name.

But, on this day, it was a shock to my soul.

L e s a

My person, my self, my being had cancer. And, not just any cancer, but breast cancer. Unbelievable.

Until now. They would not put my name on the cubby if I didn’t need to have a cubby. I wouldn’t need a cubby if I didn’t need the treatment. I wouldn’t need the treatment if I didn’t have cancer.

In my breast.

I love my breasts. They came to me at an early age when my girlish figure was that of twelve but my breast knew themselves to be twenty-one. I confess it was not love at first budding. It was more like womanhood possessing me and taking over my body.

But, as age walked me down my life’s path, I grew to love, appreciate and even enjoy them.

I enjoyed the intimacy of mother and child when I nursed my babies and remember being grateful that my children and I were able to enjoy early morning and late night feedings. I came to know the hearts of my little babies while nursing them.

So, when I saw my name listed, top row right, and knew there was a very real possibility I might lose my two sweet friends, it was devastating.

I was afraid.

No, I was more than afraid, I was broken hearted.

I love and want to keep my them.

So, I soldiered-up…and took many right turns…right into the doctor’s office, right to the check in where LeeAnn greeted me with a warrior’s welcome, right through the door marked "for patients only", right to the first door with the cold knob.

And, then I did what all of we breast cancer warriors do…walked up to that tag labeling me a battler, removed my bra and shirt, warmed my breasts with my hands and laid down the gown to cover them up.

I walked out that door, down the hall and began the journey which would give me back many things I had not known I had lost.

My courage

My heart

My soul’s desires

My prayer life

My tender family moments

My growth in faith

And, just as important, my realization that I was more than just my breasts. My breasts were simply reminders of my feminine core, beautiful symbols and worth fighting for.

But, whether they stayed with me as a part of my body or whether they left me and took a piece of my heart along with them, I would survive.

I am grateful for "top row, right" for that simple little cubby symbolizes many right things in my life. Lessons learned only because I fought the good fight, battling in pink and learning to love every precious day I have.

Blessings...all wrapped up in Pink,
Lesa

Dedicated to Isaac Gastineau....Praying daily many times for your earthly healing, grateful for every moment your family has you, battling in spirit along beside you.  We love you....　

To Madison Elizabeth Jewel…..

“Years ago into my life, a baby daughter came, I loved her with all my heart and still do just the same.  From ruffled pants to piggy tails, to first lost teeth and school events.  We knew right from the very start our precious girl was heaven sent.  And as the years have come and gone, we’ve watched her sweetly grow, into the daughter we dreamed about ..a debt of thanks to God we owe..”  ~LSY

Being a mother to my four children has been the greatest blessing and the greatest privilege of my life.

Being a mother to you is God’s way of confirming to me that I was a deeply loved daughter for you are a precious jewel….

There are many things I could write…and, many things I have already written but what I want to do on this your 22^nd birthday is give you my Mother’s blessing.

“May your every day be one of thanksgiving to God…for your life, your family, your friends, your salvation” “May you come to know Him in a real and meaningful way and may you use that knowledge to be a Godly reflection to all you are around”

“May you always remember whose girl you are….HIS”

“May you always put people first and things last”

“May you take care of the person you are…physically, emotionally, and in every way”

“May you work with your hands daily in the serving of others”

“May your heart be strong….bold…brave…”

“May you recognize the value of your worth…the Jewel that you are…”

“May your days be many, your laughter be much, your sorrows be few”

“May God shower you with those earthly possessions which enable you to share in the provision for your family and others”

“May you live on purpose”

 “May you have a clear path and a clear direction….and, may that be one filled with God”

“May you always forgive”

“May the past be buried and the future be found”

“May you understand that we are not promised tomorrow…and, that we should make the most of today”

“May you know and find strength in the depth of love your family feels for you, may that be an anchor for your life”

“May God find favor with you all the days of your life”

I Love You As Only Your Mother Can,

Blessings,

Mama

 

A Promise Fulfilled

One year and three months ago, my sweet childhood friend Tammy Nischan, “laid down a gauntlet” at the feet of my sorrow.  She laid it down in such a way that my self  had to pause, to breathe and to think about what she suggested, no, at what she challenged me to do.

“Write, Lesa”  “Pour out your heart onto blank pages so that a year from now, even years from now, you can see how God is working on your heart and spirit.  What is unclear to you because of the fog of pain will become more clear as time passes.  And, if you write it down, you will have a record of this journey you are on.  It will evidence God’s walking beside you and with you and it will show  you that you are,  nor were,  ever alone.”  It will be the season in which He gives to you a new heart.

In trust, I began writing. 

And today, as I opened the box which contains my “Blog book” (thank you Hannah Rhodes Rogers for the idea), I am ever so grateful for Tammy’s challenge.  At the time, I didn’t fully understand nor appreciate Tammy’s words, but as I write this today,

I do.

Those fifteen months ago, I found and claimed this verse from Ezekiel 36:26

“I shall give you a new heart, and put a new spirit in you.”

That was my prayer those many months ago, and as I read through the hundreds of words which poured out of me, I find truth in this verse and in His promise.  It is all there…in black, white and at times even red. 

The journey and His presence.

And, I am grateful.

Blessings,

Lesa

A Promise to Myself

A Promise to myself….

As I turned 50, a priority goal is to read through my Bible in a year.  To effect that possibility, it became clear to me that reading would have to be my priority.  And, so other things would have to become a lessor priority.

And, so they will.

Prior to birthday, I committed that beginning today, April 1, 2012, I will not give fb, cell phones, internet searches, nor work, nor coffee, nor sitting on the deck watching the sunrise priority in my life until I give my daily reading its due time.  This also applies to throwing in a load of laundry, eating a banana and getting up my children for school.

Fortunately, I am an early riser, and find getting up in the early morning to read a joy and a blessing.  As well, I am a before I go to bed reader and will be able to ensure I honor my commitment as sun sets.

A promise. 

Not one made to my husband, or my children, my parents or my family.

Truthfully, not even one made to God for He does not need my promise…it is His assistance I seek in honoring my word.  But, I believe He will bless me as I strive to follow through.

It is a promise to the woman I am to become these next 365 days…the woman God wants to grow me into which he cannot as long as I place other things, other people, other ideas in my forefront.

I personally find joy in the things I list above….I enjoy hearing your voices on my phone, watching the sun rise and set from our deck, and following your family on Facebook.

But, if I do that and fail to place God first in my day, then I have failed at the number one purpose in life and that is to be a reflection of Him in how I live my life.

Sadly, I have done that many times….the failure part.  And, I always ask myself why, when deep down, I know why…

Because I give Him my left-over me not my priority me.

So, I have made a promise to myself.  I write it here because I believe what you write and can see with your eyes you are better able to live by….we do have the best example of that in The Bible.

And, I write so you can hold me accountable (as some of you will really do…and, I love you for that)…..

So, Yes, I did read this morning before reading and posting this…and, I pray that God will grow me into a woman who will take time with Him each morning before I do another single thing that day.

For if I truly “love him with all of my heart”, I will give Him the very best of my heart and that means the first of my heart.

Please be praying that I am able to honor my promise….

And know, I will be praying for you.

Blessings,

Lesa

“Which is the first of all Commandments?”  Jesus replied, “This is the first; Listen, Israel, the Lord our God is the one, only Lord, and you must love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind and with all your strength.  The second is this: you must love your neighbor as yourself.  There is no greater commandment than these.”….Mark 12: 28-31

Home is where your Mama's heart is...

I have a little Mama.

She is short, petite and fiesty.

Truth is, she has not always been this way.  It has been a battle of hers to be a little Mama.....

But, little she is now.

What is interesting to me is that if/when asked to describe her, her size never enters my mind. It has never entered my mind.

I think if you met her, it would not enter your mind either.

This is what I see when I think of my Mama...

*  Large heart - I can remember actually getting frustrated with my mother when I was younger because she was "too nice".  I would say, "you let people run over you.  I felt this way a lot...and, even about relatives".  Now, I understand that she was not weak in her heart area...she was large.  She loved others more than herself so giving was natural to her.  She saw the bigger picture...she "got it".....she knew that people were more important than things and battles were saved for important things...life or death things...not silly, immature things.
*  Eyes so blue they cause you to catch your breath the first time you see them.  Literally.  My Mama's eyes have a

Home is where God awakens you in the early morning to spend time with Him…

I am not sure why, but for some reason, I find myself waking up in the early morning with the inability to return to sleep and the need to talk with God…these early am prayers are precious to my heart.  Time alone with just me and God…time to reflect on my life and the life of my family.

Time alone to think about the past and to rejoice in the future.

It’s quiet in my home at 4 am or 5 am or whatever early am time I am awakened by God.  It is a unique quiet…a different kind of quiet.  I do not awaken frustrated that I cannot sleep as sometimes I do…rather, I awaken with the knowledge that if I will get up and make the time to be “present” with God, I will receive a blessing that only He can give.

            God chooses very interesting times in my life to draw me to this early am prayer….not at all what I would chose…when I had little twin babies and so very much needed my sleep, I would be awakened in the wee hours to spend time with Him.  When I have been up all night with worry over a daughter who was out with friends and she comes in…I remained awake….with God.

            When I had a big project at work and needed my rest so desperately so that I would do well the next day, I could not sleep until God and I talked.

            And, very early on I learned that IF I would obey his calling of my name and make time to be in prayer and talking, He would carry me through whatever came my way the next day.

            God is like that.  He loves it when we sit beside him, lay our weary heads on his shoulder and talk.  He loves it when we kneel beside him and share our joys and our tender moments of life.  He loves it when we share our happy moments and he loves us through our sad.

            Like a good parent, God just likes us to be with him.  He knows the more we are present with Him, the more of Him is present WITHIN us. 

            And, Him being God….blesses us in ways no other can bless us….

            I have a favorite quote, “when you get to the bottom of yourself, you get to the beginning of God”….this is not a thing you do one time in your life.  I believe you do this again and again, because in our humanity, we forget to keep God front and center.  We don’t heed his calling and go be with Him…we try to take on things alone.  And, we cannot.  So, He allows us to get to the bottom of ourselves so that we are forced to come sit at His feet and take time to be with Him…to talk with Him…it’s not a thing He does so much out of discipline of us, although I think it can be, but mostly He does this out of love…because he knows that the more we are with Him, the more of our worth, value and purpose can be made known to us…

            Each of us is here on earth for a brief time and for a Holy purpose.  Some of us “get it” early on that God has a purpose and from early on, we head that direction.  Some, not so much.  Some of us take time to grow, develop.  The great thing is, God loves us regardless of which we are..all He asks is that as we search for our purpose that we use Him as our guide…and live it out in His name.

            We do that by using those gifts He gave us to use…His Word, the avenue of prayer, the gift of family, the treasure of church fellowship, and other things.

            Those who are wise…or maybe who are humbly aware know the value of using these gifts to draw themselves closer to God.  I love those who have this figured out…I love sitting in the presence of a Godly man or woman who is authentic in his/her walk with God.  They seem to have a peace about them which is found through many, many hours spent with God.  They are humble…they are gentle, their eyes are kind and their hearts are soft.  They don’t seem to talk a lot…maybe because they do all their talking with God.

            The words which they use when they do speak are provoking because of their insight…

            People who are close with God are different…you can feel their love of God is greater than their love of life….

            They have answered the call many early mornings to go be with Him.  They have stayed on their knees more than on their feet.  They have laid down their burdens at the feet of the only one who can really remove them.  The know the value of spending time with the only one who can truly make a difference.

            I want to be one of these people…

Blessings,

Lesa

Home is Where You Go….To See Yourself Reflected in the Eyes of Your Husband

Home is Where You Go….

                        To See Yourself Reflected in the Eyes of Your Husband…

I haven’t written much about my husband, Ian, and there are many reasons for that…but,

It is time…

Ian gave me the plaque below which he made (obviously, by hand) after we married.  He gave it to me so that every day, I would have in black and white what he sees when he looks at me.

He knows that I love words..

He knows that I believe you are what you read..

He knows the power the words on those you love…what you call them, how you describe them, how you view them changes how they view themselves.

I hang it in my bathroom so that it is one of the first things I see each morning when I awaken..

My morning goes like this…Ian awakens..showers…dresses…comes to pray, hug me and then kiss me good day as he leaves for work.

I get up, go to brush my teeth and see his words…

How HE views me…

What he thinks of my heart…my spirit…my soul.

Words like

 Precious….Mommy…Compassionate…Considerate…Expressive…Priceless…

They melt my heart..

They fill my heart with joy.

Mother, Valuable, Daughter, Friend, Good, Pure…

They draw sweet tears of humility.

God’s….

Ian’s reminder to me of exactly whose I am so that I never have to doubt.

God’s.

God’s child.  God’s Girl.  God’s woman.

This plaque touches my heart in a very real and authentic way because it has renewed my view of myself.

As has Ian.

For many many years, these were not words I heard when being described.  In fact, the opposite…

So, this gift from him has much more worth than a mere plaque with words on it.

It is how my husband sees me…views me…knows me.

THAT is a powerful gift.

What I love about Ian is that he tells me that while the words were placed on a plaque by Him…they come from God…my creator, my redeemer….my Savior.

He was merely the vessel used to remind me how valuable I was to My Heavenly Father…

And, to him.

It’s not that I didn’t know God loves me and sees me as His…it is that that knowing was buried….as life will sometimes do…

Like a treasure, Ian dug for and found exactly what I needed to remind me of who I really am…daily…sweetly….lovingly.

And, for that, I will be eternally grateful.

I would add one more to this list..

Grateful.

ILYFAOD

Blessings,

~Lesa

Top Row, Right

June 7, 2008. 

Through the front door of Dr. Jackson’s office, to the check-in window, through the door with the sign “for patients only” , turn to the right, first door on the right…

Top Row, first cubby on the right

“lesa” printed out on a small index card, waiting.

Normally, I would enjoy seeing my name in print…I like the unique spelling, a portion of my Daddy “ Chester Lee” invested in my name.

But, on this day, it was a shock to my soul.

L e s a

My person, my self, my being had cancer.  And, not just any cancer, but breast cancer.  Unbelievable.

Until now.  They would not put my name on the cubby if I didn’t need to have a cubby.  I wouldn’t need a cubby if I didn’t need the treatment.  I wouldn’t need the treatment if I didn’t have cancer.

In my breast. 

I love my breasts.  They came to me at an early age when my girlish figure was that of twelve but my breast knew themselves to be twenty-one.  I confess it was not love at first budding.  It was more like womanhood possessing me and taking over my body.

But, as age walked me down my life’s path, I grew to love, appreciate and even enjoy my breasts.

No one ever had to guess that I was a girl.  Rather, they more often than not had the surprise of knowing that I was a “young” girl.  Confusing to many, especially boys, because my breasts were determined to always be about eight years older than my birth age.

As time would have it, I eventually grew into my breasts and my age caught up with their maturity.

I enjoy the femininity which comes from being a full figured woman.  Dressing in lovely, low cut blouses with just enough cleavage peeking through makes me smile.

I enjoyed the intimacy of mother and child when I nursed my babies and remember being grateful that my children and I were able to enjoy early morning and late night feedings.    I came to know the hearts of my little babies while nursing them.  Precious to my heart are those little milk mouths sucking and glancing up at me with milk-mouth smiles.

I love the God blessed intimacy my husband and I share in loving one another by loving each other’s bodies.  There is a sacred bond which comes through our relationship and tenderness of touch, especially of my breasts.

So, when I saw my name listed, top row right, and knew there was a very real possibility I might lose my two sweet friends, it was devastating.

I was afraid.

No, I was more than afraid, I was broken hearted.

I love and want to keep my breasts.

So, I soldiered-up…and took many right turns…right into the doctor’s office, right to the check in where LeeAnn greeted me with a warrior’s welcome, right through the door marked “for patients only”, right to the first door with the cold knob.

And, then I did what all of we breast cancer warriors do…walked up to that tag labeling me a battler, removed my bra and shirt, warmed my breasts with my hands and laid down the gown to cover them up.

I walked out that door, down the hall and began the journey which would give me back many things I had not known I had lost.

My courage

My heart

My soul’s desires

My prayer life

My tender family moments

My growth in faith

And, just as important, my realization that I was more than just my breasts.  My breasts were simply reminders of my feminine core, beautiful symbols and worth fighting for.

But, that whether they stayed with me as a part of my body or whether they left me and took a piece of my heart along with them, I would survive.

I am grateful for “top row, right” for that simple little cubby symbolizes many right things in my life.  Lessons learned only because I fought the good fight, battling in pink and learning to love every precious day I have.

Committed to Our Garden....

Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as though you were working for the Lord and not for people.   Colossians 3:23

Ian is a man who loves the out of doors and I am a woman whose family raised her on a country farm.  He loves to till the soil and I love to watch things grow.

Thus, we have decided to have a vegetable garden in our back yard.  Not just any garden, but a fairly good sized one.  The soil is virgin, never having been tilled for gardening before….it will take a labor of love to get it ready to plant.

Ian explained to me prior to our marital agreement to have a garden that he cannot do this alone.  I will have to step up and assist.  He encouraged me to think about it before we cut ground.

Now, my experience is that Mama and Daddy tilled our family garden, planted the seeds, weeded, feed-ed and harvested the fruits (and vegetables) of their labors with we children being sent out to weed the garden only in an emergency or as punishment.  “If you are not going to do your laundry, then go weed the garden”  “If you have time to stay out on a date until midnight, then you have time to get up early and pick the beans before the sun gets up.”   You know…those kinds of fatherly/motherly encouragements when you are young and impressionable.

And, dag gone it, Ian knew this gardening history of mine.  So, he made me think about whether or not I really wanted one and whether or not I was going to pull my load in our gardening efforts.  I think this came about when I began making the list for what we were going to grow….the longer the list grew, the longer grew our conversations about commitment and work ethic.

“Baby”, says Ian, “I will plant you whatever you want.  I will till the whole back yard and help you ready it for the garden you desire.  I will till it, I will prime it, I will plant rows so straight you will feel you are living in the Garden of Eden, but there is one thing you have to promise….”

I demurely and sweetly ask in my most southern lady-like drawl…”Pray tell, what is that Dearest?”  All said while twirling my sweet little pink umbrella bought just for the purpose of resting on my veranda while watching his big, strong, muscular arms till my “Tara” yard.

“Baby”, says Ian, “You have to commit.”

“Oh Ian Honey, why I AM committed.” Says I

“No, baby….I mean you have to get off your pretty little bottom, put on your cute little pink gardening gloves and actually walk from the veranda a/k/a our deck and come h-e-l-p me prepare this garden.  You will need to help me break dirt clods and set straight rows with string and water and fertilize and daily…daily weed our garden.”  “Honey, can you commit to that?”

“Oh my”, says I…..”I may need to think about that, Ian.” “that’s NOT how my Daddy did it when I was growing up.”  “Daddy did all that messy, manly stuff and he was glad to do it for us.” 

“Well, darling…..I aint your Daddy.” Says Ian

“Hmmm….I can see that…” says I

“Think on it sweetheart and let me know.  If you decide to commit, then you shall have your garden and I will be delighted to “help” you get it ready.”

Now, let me tell you, my mouth had been watering over the thought of ripe, juicy tomatoes and crisp, cold cucumbers since last summer when Ian promised a 2012 garden.  I had images of yellow squash and onions and melons dancing in my head all winter long.  But, never once did Ian mention the degree to which my own personal involvement was expected.

Oh my, what is a girl to do?

I thought, I pondered.  I looked out my kitchen window imagining my back yard garden-less and then garden-full, and oh, the site was so much lovelier with it garden-full.

As tiny little tears stung my eyes, and sweetly rolled down my pink cheeks, I turned to this garden-monster of a man I married and asked him….”Sweetheart, didn’t you promise to love and care and nurture me forever and one day last May 14^th and doesn’t that include growing our little garden?”

Unmoved by my tears (if you can even dare to imagine that), Ian said, “yes, Baby, I did….and, I will.  You can even call your Daddy and Mama and ask them if need be….because I promised them I would care for you all the rest of the days of your life….care for you in such a way that when time came, you would be ready….”  “I promised to love you, nurture you, protect you and love you as Christ loves his church.” “I promised that I would share life, share joys and share sorrows.”  “I promised to be your help-meet” and that means not doing things for you, but doing things with you.”  “So, baby, on this gardening adventure…are you in?”  “Now’s the time you have to commit….the soil must be readied.”

Well, I was beginning to see that he was not going to let me sit on the veranda this gardening season…

Yes, yes, yes….I want the garden, I want those ripe, red tomatoes, those green crunchy cucumbers and those bold yellow squashes.  My heart leaps at the thought of fresh picked scallions and bell green peppers and lovely fresh herbs.

“Okay”, says Ian….”then remember this….just as our life is a reflection of our commitment to God, our work in our garden is a reflection of our commitment to our family.”  “It will be a testament to many things…our work ethic, our ability to envision our final crops and our desire to encourage one another and to work together.”

And, therefore, we need to work this family garden of life with all of our hearts….as if we are working for the Lord…

Because we are.

Blessings,

Lesa