Thriving...in Spite of It

I have a number of flowering vines, deliberately planted, and innumerable wild ones populating the backyard and prayer trail beyond it. I am fascinated by their very determined twining and stretching, in spite of barriers, dry places, and competition for soil… But there are two such vines that struck me this morning because of the disparity in their growth.  One—a climbing hydrangea—has yet to live up to its name. It’s not the vine’s fault. I had just assumed it would climb up the wall, so I’ve given it nothing to cling to. One year later, it’s still more like a meager little bush, evidently stunted in its growth for lack of a trellis.  The other one, on the other hand—a Mandevilla—has twined itself tightly onto the trellis I gave it, intricately and inseparably weaving through its sturdy iron structure over and over, back and forth. If ever there was an image of a living thing clinging to something, this is it.  As we live and grow, we need something strong, steady, and ...

There is something in us all that is drawn to a garden. We spend hours on Pinterest, hundreds at Home Depot, and thousands on vacations and ventures, in search of finding or creating a little piece of paradise, where we can sink our toes into the cool grass and breathe in the fragrances that make us think, consciously or not, "This must be what Heaven is like." This month, we will explore the root cause of such quests (no pun intended), by unraveling the mysterious connection between us and three particular gardens (in the Bible). I was evidently taking a nap or hiding with a book somewhere when the green thumbs were passed out, so every season involves clearing away the wilted or crunchy attempts at gardening and replacing them with fresh unsuspecting little plants and blooms to improve my home's curb appeal (more like HGTV, less like the Munster's house). Nevertheless, I'm still THAT person who slows down to take pictures of fields of wildflowers, or, on ...

The other day, I was zipping from room to room, executing a quick mid-week tidy-up on the house with Olympian-like exertion, minus the grace, coordination and spandex. It was one of those spontaneous flurries of activity that bursts forth from a state of mind that’s more agitated than active—one of those moments when you lift your eyes from the task at hand to face a gargantuan to-do list, towering over you like Godzilla. With Godzilla in front of you, and a little housework behind you, it’s a no-brainer which one you had rather face: the smaller dragon, of course.  So, off I went, in all the fervor and fever of productive procrastination*, cheerfully confident in the forthcoming victory over the little dragon. I was slayin’ it. I usually spend very little time in the formal living and dining rooms, situated in the front of the house, beyond the blessed stairs, as I prefer the comfort of the breakfast table and easy chair in rooms situated in the back of the house, near the kit...

I start every morning on the back porch with a cup of coffee and my Bible. Even though I live in the suburbs, there is no shortage of wildlife activity at that time of day (and I'm not talking about the neighborhood party animals dragging themselves home).  While a squirrel and bluejay engage in their daily skirmish on top of the fence, squabbling over whatever tidbit the squirrel has just found, birdsongs fill the trees. Occasionally, one of them will come out his cover and find a perch on a nearby rooftop, so he can maximize his volume well enough to irritate even the soundest sleeping  of all the snoozing teenagers on the block. It's a cheerful setting. Over the past few weeks, though, my curiosity began to grow. Whenever I heard a bird singing, I would wonder, is that the robin, or the cardinal? Or is it the mockingbird, imitating one or both of them?  The App Store is a wonderful thing...almost as wonderful as Wikipedia ;) In the modern style of self-educ...