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Less Really is More

May 21, 2013

It is gardening time in Indiana. I love it! My tulips have just completed a beautiful round of glorifying my yard and even my husband commented on their brilliance. Never mind that it was a temperate day last December when I planted the bulbs. Yes, the rest of the neighborhood was hanging their Christmas lights that day, but I was not intimidated. Perseverance pays.

As I prepared to plant my annuals and vegetables, I decided that some extra nutrients were in order to have a successful growing season. I loaded up on lots of organic matter and some fertilizer that said “twelve-twelve-twelve” on the front. A Master Gardener (which I am not) friend of mine suggested some “ten-ten-ten” to help my vegetables thrive, but the “twelve-twelve-twelve” was what I found, so I figured it must be better. My non-gardening husband agreed with that thinking.

Fast forward to today. It has been about three weeks since I planted some of my annuals. With each plant, I added the fertilizer and the organic matter to the dirt. Some of the plants look happy, and a few are now dead. Gone. What went wrong? In some cases, the plants are neighbors! How could this be? Turns out, according to the expert gardeners (again, not me) I overdid it with the nutrients. The soil was simply too rich for those little flowers. I now know that I should choose one or the other, not both. Some lessons are tough. In this case, less is more. I do believe that this thinking is best in many situations. Seems to me I say those same words every December when we hang our Christmas lights. Happy planting…

“Voluntary simplicity means going fewer places in one day rather than more, seeing less so I can see more, doing less so I can do more, acquiring less so I can have more.” Wendell Berry

Feeling Stormy? Experience Growth!

April 11, 2013

Hope, Personal Development, Spiritual

One of the really cool parts about our humanity is our ability to feel…so much. Like, the warmth of the sun on a summer day in July, and a cool breeze off the Lake. Or, the soft rain on our skin when we get caught in an April shower, just before the flowers bloom. We love the feel of happiness, when a day just seems to roll along in the right direction. Those moments when everything seems at peace in the world, or our world, at least.

One of the toughest parts about our humanity is our ability to feel…too much. When our child gets hurt in the game and is out for the season or someone makes a remark that cuts through our heart. Nothing goes our way no matter how hard we try. Illness zaps our energy and causes every bone in our body to make itself known. The thunderstorms of life have the potential to drown us.

So, what do we do? Such a blessing and a curse, to feel, really feel, life. Wouldn’t it be sweet to just savor the good parts and let the rest go? It would, for a while. But how would a great day in our eyes make itself be known if we didn’t have a less than great day to compare it to? We would never appreciate what it is to be well, if we are never ill. And I am absolutely positive that after a few months of winter, I appreciate my crocuses much more than a person who can gaze upon the beauty of fresh blooms all year.

We experience duality for good purpose. It is the only way we can grow as individuals and become who we are truly meant to be. Adversity builds character and creates a foundation that has the potential to become unshakeable, if we allow it. We don’t have to like it, merely embrace it for our good. Oh, and equally as important, for the good of the next friend we are able to help through the storm.

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” Romans 8:28 NIV

Sometimes All We Can Do is “Be”

April 9, 2013

Family, Grief, Hope, Loss, Spiritual

I recently spent most of my days sitting and “being.” Reading anything of substance was merely an exercise of moving my eyes across the page. Nothing would sink into my brain. I could work puzzles…easy Sudoku and a few crossword. Even my Bible lessons seemed impossible to figure out. Hmmm. Perhaps because not every answer is clear cut.

What I was able to do, besides pray, was be. And nod off to sleep. For days and days, I sat at the bedside of my mother as she transitioned to eternity. She had been an Alzheimer’s patient for over a decade. Her mind and body would be free at last, while all I could do was be. Mindless. Still.

I recalled the early days of her illness, when it was best to sit together in silence. Conversation went in circles. We would simply be. Together. And in the final moments of her life, the circle became complete. When I came into this world, it was the two of us, together. As she left this world, it was once again, the two of us, together. All we could do was be. Still.

“Be still, and know that I am God.” Psalm 46:10 NIV

Good Times at the Farmhouse

March 4, 2013

Family

A couple weeks ago I paid a visit to my Aunt Susie. She is ninety-four years young, the only remaining child of ten. We did what ladies like to do, and went out for lunch. The chicken and noodles we had were not nearly as good as she and her sisters once made, but the comfort food brought back some good memories. A nice surprise, her son Bruce stopped by while we were enjoying our time together. He gave me a gift of a drawing he had done of the farmhouse that our parents grew up in.

Since there had been no pictures to draw the house from, he drew it the way Aunt Susie described. The farmhouse was a two-story frame with a porch that nearly wrapped around the entire house. A porch swing was hanging in front of the kitchen window. A warm light shone from the family room, as that was the center of activity and warmest in winter.

I listened intently as Aunt Susie described the interior, which room was which, and all the happy stories that came to mind along the way. She also told me of the difficulties that came about when her father was killed. She helped raise the youngest siblings as her mother and the older ones went off to work.

What really amazed me was that in spite of the hardships they endured, she enjoyed growing up when she did with her family and all of its imperfections. Her memories were happy and I delighted in listening to them come alive through her stories. Now, if only I could recreate the chicken and noodles that were once made in the farmhouse kitchen…

“The happiest people in the world are not those who have no problems, but the people who have learned to live with those things that are less than perfect.” James Dobson

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