Perennials

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It’s not much to look at today. But just a week ago, when I bought it for $2.99 at our local grocery, it was adorable. Tiny daffodils in full bloom. Perfect for the middle of the kitchen table.

I’ve been thinking of deadheading it, wondering if it would bloom again? My husband said he didn’t think it would. Not right now. Not in its current state. “But,” he said, “don’t throw it away. Save the bulbs.”

It occurred to me today as I think about those bulbs, hiding dormant for a future bloom, how much this situation is like the parable of the sower.

“A sower went out to sow his seed. And as he sowed, some seed fell on the path and was trampled, and the birds of the sky ate it up. Some seed fell on rocky ground, and when it grew, it withered for lack of moisture. Some seed fell among the thorns, and the thorns grew with it and choked it. And some seed fell on good soil, and when it grew, it produced fruit a hundredfold.” 

-Luke 8: 5-8

A hundredfold. Fruit (or daffodil blooms) can reproduce many, many times if planted in the right place and nurtured.

Jesus’s teaching here gives me pause. I do my best to be the good soil. I desperately want to be the place where the seed of the Word falls and is “embrace[d]…with a generous and good heart.” I want to “bear fruit through perseverance” in study, prayer, and a faithful walk with the Lord. (Luke 8:15)

But what about my kids?

How can I help them prepare the soil of their souls for the Word?

Last night in the car, we somehow ended up in a discussion about hearing God’s voice. But I was reassured to hear, yet again, that my kids know it. Even the littlest one, who is just 6, and it was all I could do to keep the wheel steady when he said,

“God talks so quietly. It’s hard to hear Him, deep in my heart.”

The day had come full circle to a verse I’d heard in a lecture that morning.

Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. These commandments that I give to you today are to be upon your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk [or drive] along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Write them on the door frames of your houses and on your gates.

-Deuteronomy 6:4-9

This was a “teachable moment” in which the Lord was calling me to share the Truth with my children. To till the soil of their souls by reinforcing their own observations. To confirm that this voice – God’s voice speaking in their hearts – is the One voice they need to listen to above all others. It is the seed that will bloom for them time and time again throughout their lives, particularly on dark days when the surprise of a flower is a bright spot of hope.

My job is to continue to turn over the earth, to nurture my kids’ faith with His love – Love that was planted in me long ago.

That verse from Deuteronomy commands this of me as a parent, but as I’ve also learned, obedience to God’s commands brings joy that simply doesn’t compare with any earthly happiness.

I want that joy for my kids – more than anything else in the world.

So I’m saving the bulbs, and I’ll carefully plant them again, assured of the promise that God brings life out of dark places, if only we persevere.

 

Day 10 – The Smith Wrinkle

“Do you have the Smith wrinkle?” my distant cousin asks me over breakfast with a small group of family members, reunited in a Denny’s in Vancouver, WA in July. “Umm…I’m sorry?” I say.  This lady is my dad’s first cousin, but because I’ve spent my life on the East Coast, I’ve only ‘met’ her a handful of times in my adulthood. She is lovely, but….the Smith wrinkle?  She continues, smiling, “On your arm,” and reaches across my aunt who is sitting between us to turn over my right arm and push up my sleeve. “You do!!” she declares.  I look down and realize then that the strange little line about one inch above the crook of my elbow now has an endearing name – my maiden name. “Do others have it?” I ask quizzically, shocked and delighted by this family tidbit.  “As far as I know, all of us Smiths have it. It’s a genetic trait. It gets more defined as you get older.”  My aunt is equally surprised.  We roll up her sleeve. She’s got it. At the table are my grandpa and his sister.  They both have it. The minute I get home a few days later, I check all three of my kids.  They each have it, too. Well, I’ll be darned.

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Family traits come in a variety of packages.  There are genetic traits – like this fun little wrinkle in my family, or another family’s perky nose, or auburn hair, deep-set eyes and long eyelashes, feet that all look the same, etc. There are also personality traits – like inherent joyfulness, ambitiousness, or a strong preference for organized surroundings and schedules (or lack thereof). The possibilities are endless, and families fascinate me, because even where similarities exist, countless differences do as well. No two people, even genetically identical twins, are absolutely the same through and through. The most important part of them – the soul – is one of a kind.

In the past, I wondered about the malleability of my soul, because I’d heard many proponents of various belief systems stipulate (in one way or another) that we can change ourselves. They are loud and vocal in today’s world. Usually they advocate some sort of introspective process in which a person peels back layers (often painful memories) to try to uncover the essence of who they are, and from there, harness internal raw energy to embrace life with newfound vigor and awareness. While we can probably make small changes on our own, it’s been my experience that profound, lasting change requires more than…well, more than me.  This introspective process worked for me to a point, but stopped when I came to grips with the fact that if I truly had the power to change myself, I would have already done it. My willpower alone should’ve been enough. But I was still plagued with bad habits and personality traits I disliked, and I hurt others with them too. I had to admit the possibility of a power greater than myself, and that I was NOT it.

Once I fully acknowledged that God was not me, and that I was not in control of much of anything, I returned to the faith of my upbringing and began to hear again the whisper of His voice.  Here and there at first, then more as I began to study Him in earnest, and finally, regularly as I went to Him in prayer. What He taught me was so much more profound and soul-filling than anything I had found rooting around on my own.  He showed me that not only is He more than enough, that He is who my soul was looking for, but also that to the degree I allow Him, His Spirit comes in and replaces my bad qualities with His perfect ones. He alone can heal my wounded and wayward soul. 2 Timothy 1:7 tells me, “For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love, and self-discipline.” Further, I want to throw myself into His mercy, because the fruits of His love in those who love Him are so precious:

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance,

kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.

Against such things there is no law.

Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires.

Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit.

— Galatians 5:22-25

Lord, make your traits more defined in me as I mature in my relationship with you, just as you’ll make the Smith wrinkle stand out more in my ‘senior’ years.