Dandelion Days

It's that time of year again -- time to mow the lawn! Spring has sprung and our yard is quickly recovering from it's winter slumber. Unfortunately, our lawn isn't the pristine, weed-free carpet you might find in a typical Southern Living spread. No, it's much more interesting! We have a variety in our yard -- crab grass, chickweed, chain grass, clover, and the inevitable dandelions! But perspective is everything, right? As David and I bemoan the constant cutting, weed-pulling, fertilizing, and trimming, our kids are delighted by the little wonders that even weeds can produce. The chickweed sprouts tiny purple flowers that Emma gathers in miniature bouquets for Mommy. Patches of clover hide good-luck charms to be found! Clover flowers are quickly made into flower necklaces and bracelets. Crab grass provides an opportunity for Matthew to make a musical instrument (place it flat between your thumbs and blow for a kazoo-like sound). And of course, dandelions are the best. They love blowing the puffs, but they especially like the stems. My mother taught me this trick that she used to do when she was a little girl. Take a bowl or bucket of water. Then gather as many dandelion stems as you can (the longer the better). Remove the flower heads so all you have is the hollow stems. Then, carefully peel the stem into thin strips (kind of like peeling string cheese). Place the strips into the water and watch! They curl up into tight ringlets, like telephone cords or Shirley-Temple-like curls! The kids love it! They make as many curls as they can, producing a bucket full of "noodle soup"! They could do this for hours!

The Maple tree in our front yard is also a source of multiple wonders. Matt has finally figured out how to climb up by himself, and shimmies quickly up whenever I open the front door it seems! Emma soon joins him (with a little boost from Mommy), and they perch themselves on the limbs and pluck "helicopters" to launch. "Helicopters" as you may know, are the seeds that the Maple produces. When tossed into the air, they spin and twirl to the ground, rotating like a helicopter propeller. Then they play pirates, look for woodpecker holes, bugs, or just enjoy the view! Several days ago, the kids invited me to join them in the tree. I used to be an expert tree climber (just ask my Mom who can probably attribute most of her grey hairs to the huge Tulip Poplar in our front yard growing up). No problem, I thought! I grabbed a limb and hoisted myself up pretty easily (I've still got it, I thought!). I sat with them a while and then decided to get down. Hmmm. . . a little trickier. I dislocated my knee two years ago, so simply jumping was not a good option lest my leg buckle. So I opted to swing down. I grabbed a nearby limb and jumped. Ah, yes, it was that moment that I realized that I'm not ten anymore as I felt every muscle down my triceps and under my armpits pull like taffy that's been sitting out too long! Ouch!! But, I didn't let on to the kids. I want them to think that their Mommy can still keep up with them. Truth is, my arms are STILL hurting three days later!! Oh well, it was worth it. I even got to launch a few helicopters!

Unfortunately, our fallen world now produces thorns and weeds, but isn't God amazing that our hearts can find delight even in these things -- as long as we have the perspective of a child. It takes maturity in Christ to see God's goodness in the "weeds" we encounter in our lives. It is interesting that true, Christian maturity requires a child-like faith. These Spring days of crab grass and dandelions are a lesson to us grown-ups that it's that simple, child-like faith that delights the heart of God!

They're Baaa-aaack!!!

I LOVE being a stay-at-home Mom, but some days I can understand the allure of remaining in the workforce. When I was working in Charlotte, the office I showed up to every morning in my nice, pressed suit was clean and bright. There was always fresh coffee brewing, and free juice compliments of one of our biggest clients, Coca-Cola/Minute Maid, in the break room. Occasionally someone would bring in hot, fresh bagels from one of those fancy boutique bakeries! Yes, there's something nice about spending your work day in an orderly, clean, civilized environment!

Fast forward to 2008. . . Now I'm in charge of my "work environment" which seems like it should be a simple task since I'm physically at home most of the day. What I have found, however, is that besides the two little tornadoes at home with me all day, the laws of physics themselves are conspiring against my efforts! I can spend an entire day cleaning, vacuuming, doing laundry, dusting and organizing, step back and admire my accomplishment, and the next day my home will look like, as my Grandma Campbell used to say, the wreck of the Hesperus again! And not just in the big things like unmade beds, dirty dishes, or clutter but even the small things, like dust! Where is it coming from?! We have hardwood floors through 90% of our home, AND we have three air purifiers which are supposed to drastically cut down the amount of dust. So, how is it that a day after I dust the ENTIRE house, I am finding, not just surface dust, but dust bunnies!? They congregate under the tables, camp out under my bed, and bounce across the floors like miniature tumble weeds through the hardwood desert of our den! I am tempted to say that it's just the law of atrophy at work, but at the rate in which they show up, it's like a conspiracy! My home seems to have been designated a dust-bunny sanctuary (maybe I missed the letter from Al Gore) where they are free to roam and multiply! I find myself fighting this battle daily. Every time I think I am making head-way, I have to start all over again.

God has woven the story of redemption into the fabric of creation. The law of atrophy tells us that things don't get better over time and on their own! But as we see Spring budding, we are reminded that the winter of atrophy in our souls has been conquered, and new life is available to us through Christ. But the world is still groaning, and although our sins have been forgiven and God sees us as perfect through the work of His Son, that doesn't mean that we don't still have to fight our fallen nature daily! The battles of my flesh keep coming back, and once more I must fight them. Just when I think I've conquered a particular hill in my life, it shows up again, or a new one presents itself. It's like that children's song, The Bear Went Over the Mountain (to see what he could see). And what do you think he saw? Another mountain! Frankly, it gets tiring. But every time I suck up a dust bunny in my Electrolux, I remind myself that one day I won't have to fight those battles of the flesh anymore! God will provide the perfect work environment for me in whatever place He is preparing, and atrophy will be a foreign word. For now, I'll suit up for another day on planet Earth, toast myself a cheap, Food Lion bagel, and do my best to fight the good fight to the Glory of the One who reminds me daily that He has already won the war.

A Matter of Perspective

So many people have told me how much they enjoyed my Carp stories (See Mar. 25 Post, "Fish Tales" to get caught up) that I thought I would see how much more "wisdom" I could glean from these delightful creatures.

When I was a kid, on the wall of the family's trailer at the lake was a plaque that read the following:

“How to cook carp: Take one 4-5 pound carp cleaned with head on. Marinate carp in 2 cups white vinegar and 1 pkg. Italian salad dressing mix for 8 hours. Place carp on a clean cedar board. Bake at 350 degrees for 2 hours. Remove from oven, discard carp and eat the board”.

You know, there is one country where Carp is considered good eating. Can you guess where? Great Britain. Yes, there are actually fishermen from England who travel all the way to the US just to go fishing. . .for Carp! We used to run into them around here once in a while, but now that they have heard that the Carp just hop right into your boat down in Mississippi, they all head down there now (groan)! I don’t know why the Brits like eating Carp, or how exactly they prepare it. My Granddad says that it tastes like dirt, literally. Because Carp are bottom feeders, they have a muddy taste which is why people don’t eat them. I guess I shouldn't be too surprised that the Brits like the taste of Carp. Some people would argue that the English are not exactly known for their fine cuisine. In fact, in London, there is a road called Queens Way, and it’s known for it’s outstanding restaurants. When I was there many years ago, I don’t think I saw a single English restaurant on Queens Way. There was French, Lebanese, Brazilian, Italian. . .no English restaurants. In fact, some say that if you travel in England, the best place to eat is in the local pubs where you can relish the local favorites like stuffed sheep stomach, kidney pie, deep fried fish & chips with mushy peas. . . hmmm, you know, this whole Carp thing is beginning to make more and more sense. And let’s face it, when you wash anything down with Guinness, you quickly forget what the food tasted like anyway. [All this, however, runs contrary to my dear friend, Lizi, who is from England and is one of the best cooks I know (although I've never tried her carp). Carp is actually relished in Asia, too, but my guess is that the wasabi drowns out the taste].

I guess the point to all of this is that perspective is everything. What we consider rubbish, others may consider haute cuisine. I recently told someone that we as human beings so often fall into the error of considering every perspective but God's. We rely on our own "wisdom" or that of the world, rather than living life through the eyes of faith. God is the arbiter of what is true, what is noble, what is good, what is beautiful, even what to feel. We must hold everything in our lives up to the lens of Scripture and seek to understand God's eternal perspective. All challenges are spiritual in nature. Am I self-loathing? Maybe I'm allowing someone else besides God tell me who I am. Am I overwhelmed by my circumstances? Maybe I'm not trusting God's righteous, sovereign hand in my life, or recognizing His discipline. Am I unhappy or unfulfilled? Maybe someone or something else is occupying the throne of my life besides God. . . .Wow, those Carp are good for something after all!

Tunnel Vision

People often ask me where I'm from since David and I came here from Charlotte to plant Wellspring Church. I am actually from Roanoke. It's always interesting when I’m out of town and meet people, and I tell them I’m from Roanoke, I often get in reply, “Oh, the Lost Colony -- that place where the settlers mysteriously disappeared!” And I have to correct them and say, “No, that’s Roanoke Island off the coast of NC. Roanoke Virginia, is the place where all the college graduates mysteriously disappeared (ba-da BING!). . . I know, I know, that’s harsh. After all, I came back to Roanoke after nearly 10 years away. I lived in the DC area for a few years (where I met my sweetie), and then Charlotte for 7 years. And here I am, back in the beautiful Roanoke Valley!

Much of my family is still in this area, and I love having that connection for my own kids. It's really neat to be able to share my own childhood experiences with them -- that many of the elements of my childhood are now their own, like the Mill Mountain Zoo, the Star, the downtown Farmer's Market, the Roanoke Wiener Stand, etc. They love hearing stories from my past, David's past, and especially from Grandma. My Mom has some really cute memories, and her grandkids are always prodding her to amuse them with the many recounts of her childhood.

One of the favorite stories takes place when my Mom was around 4 or 5. Her mother had just completed a home-made, three-layer, coconut cake for a church event. As they were rushing around getting ready to leave, my Mom admired the cake sitting on the dining room table ready to be transported. It was beautiful! It was big! It was fluffy! It was sweet! How she longed to taste the icing -- just a little, teeeeny taste. Surly no one would be the wiser. So, very carefully she took her finger and sampled a tiny bit of icing. She looked and noticed that her finger had left a small indentation. (Now, this is one of those times we have that come as close to an out-of-body experience as we'll ever get). My Mom went into sort of a trance. She touched the spot where her finger had been and took another small taste. She became fascinated with the impression her finger was leaving in the cake, "I wonder how far I can dig?" she thought to herself. And then it happened. The click-clack of her Mother's shoes approaching on the hardwood floor suddenly snapped her out of it, and she was staring at a finger-sized tunnel nearly halfway through the cake's side! She had become so transfixed by her little excavation project, that reality had been temporarily suspended! Truly, my Mom had experienced "tunnel vision!" Now what?!

Well, she reacted as most 4-year-olds do when faced with the impending consequences of their own sins -- she ran! Outside she bolted and plastered herself flat against the back side of their shed, with her heart pounding out of her chest! It wasn't long before she heard that back screen door fly open with a SMACK! and the high-pitched, anger-invoked, quivering voice of her Mother shouting, "Carolyn!!!" Through the back yard my Grandmother stormed, like a mad, snarling beast, and my Mother can recall hearing the SNAP! of a branch being torn from the nearby weeping willow (affectionately known as the "switch" tree)! The friendly, charming neighborhood of Sunset Village was now a dangerous place, for next door, Mrs. Eller was hanging out her wash. She had observed my Mother's flight and the subsequent pursuit of my Grandmother. "Lib! She's behind the barn!"

I don't think I have to elaborate any further, and can leave you, dear readers, to fill in the blanks from this point forward. This is not only a great childhood story, but it's a picture of how we ourselves often get "tunnel vision" and forget reality -- God's reality. We become transfixed by the world -- by something so seemingly attractive and innocent that before we know it, we've fallen into sin and, now what? Like my Mom, we typically run, thinking somehow we can escape the gaze of God and any reprocussions from our actions. My mother would certainly have gotten punished regardless of whether or not she had chosen to confess versus run, but I have a feeling that the wrath of my Grandmother would have been much less faced with a contrite, humble and repentant child. Instead, she had to chase down the offender, and the rubuke was harsh. Personally, I'm taking this lesson to heart. I'd much rather confess my sins to God and face His loving discipline than attempt to hide and experience the inevitable rod!