Lessons from an Orchid

I was proud I'd kept the orchid given to me as a birthday gift alive for more than two years.

It was quite a feat since I have a "black thumb". I have killed hearty cacti, and now I was responsible for this exquisitely fragile flower.

Every Wednesday, I faithfully watered it and in return, it offered up delicate white flowers with veins of purple for my enjoyment.

But almost a year ago, I was away from the office for a period of time that encompassed two Wednesdays and had forgotten to leave instructions on watering in my absence.

When I returned, my heart sank. 

In that short time, the flowers had dropped off, and one of the two stems was brittle and dry. The second stem was in desperate need of water and the only signs of life were two leaves at the base that were browning around the edges.

I mourned my mistake and for a few moments considered tossing the whole thing out. Instead, I took out a pair of scissors and clipped the lifeless stalk. Although I doubted I could revive the remaining one, I again took to watering it weekly. 

There were many days I wondered if my efforts were wasted. There was no sign of change. Just a brown stick propped by stakes and flanked by those leaves that hung in there.

Then one day, a strange thing happened. 

I noticed a new leaf and "aerial roots".

For some reason, roots that should have been at the base of the plant, appeared at the top. I looked up the phenomenon and learned this:

Aerial roots function as anchors, affixing the plant to supporting structures such as trellises, rocks and walls.

While there was still no sign of a flower, it was obvious there was life and growth and I was encouraged.

With a renewed sense of purpose and the growing anticipation of possibility, I continued to water the plant.

Then last week, I walked into my office to find...

...four healthy buds just days away from popping open to display their elegant blooms.

It took months of blind faith and persistent watering with no promise of success, but ultimately, life sprang from death.

Hope has grown out of discouragement.

My friend, are you in season where all you see are the decaying remains of something once beautiful?

Perhaps a relationship has died. Or a dream has withered away. Money, once plentiful, dried up after a lost job. Life has a way of throwing us unexpected curves that can leave us feeling neglected, brittle, and in desperate need of care.

Have faith.

Although you may not see it, life remains. 

It may take a lot of time and patience and nurturing, but God will water your thirsty soul. And if you are willing to receive it, that water will slowly, perhaps ever so imperceptibly, bring life back to the surface.

In the process, some aerial roots may grow. Situations that don't seem to make sense at first, but that God has created to serve as anchors to the Rock.

Then one day, what you thought would never be possible, is right in front of you.

Life, in all its fullness and beauty, returns.

Hebrews 11:1 puts it this way: "Faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see."


Have faith. God is always present even when we can not see Him with our mortal eyes.

Is there something you're trusting God for today? Please share it with me in the comments - I'd love to pray for you, believing together that God will bring hope out of discouragement.

Goodbye Forever?

Today I'm still a jumble of emotions and tears.

Yesterday, I attended a funeral for the father of one of my dearest friends. I'd only met him twice. Once at the funeral of his sister-in-law, and once at the wedding of his granddaughter. I'm sure he would never have remembered that if we had been introduced a third time.

But that doesn't matter much because I will never forget him.

For years, I prayed for this man. For his health. For his well-being. For his family. His health has been borderline for a long time and each time there was a scare, I would pray anew for healing. But my constant prayer was that my friend would have the assurance of  his father's salvation before God called him home. I knew there was uncertainty, and I knew it weighed heavy on my friend's heart.

The past few months have been a roller coaster ride. Major surgery. A dire prediction for recovery. An all out miracle as the man who wasn't supposed to make it through the next 5 minutes, made it to the next morning, the next day, the next week. After a short time in rehab, he was sent home. We praised God for all He had done.

Then not long ago, a new problem surfaced and the complications began to roll in wave upon wave. I'm sure the questions I asked of God  were being echoed by his loved ones. Why did God perform such a miracle of healing, only to have him back in dire straights?

A week or so ago, my friend sat by his father's bedside. He asked the hard questions. "Dad, do you know Christ as your Savior?" "Will you go to heaven when you die?" My friend opened his Bible and went through the steps to ensure his father understood. His dad responded that yes, he understood and Christ was his Savior. Other family members received similar assurances as they too broached the subject of eternity during those last days.

When I learned of those encounters I wept at the answer to prayer. It had been the desire of my heart for a long time that my friend would know with certainty he would see his father again.

God chose ultimate healing for this man. On August 6th, he was called home. The celebration of his life was filled with stories...some funny, some touching. But the most important stories were the ones where he affirmed his belief in the Savior and his assurance that he would spend eternity with Him.

So why am I still crying?

Not because I knew this man well, I didn't.

In part because I love my friend and when he hurts, my heart hurts for him.

In part because I know and care about many of his family members and I understand the difficulty of losing a loved one - even though we who know Christ don't grieve as the world does because of our assurance of heaven.

But in large part, my tears come because of my own family members and the uncertainty of their eternal future.

Funerals cause reflection. We think of our own mortality. We wonder when we might be in the same position of saying goodbye to a loved one who is older or is in poor health.

But even in that reflection, we don't necessarily consider the fact that this life is but a vapor and we are not given assurance of tomorrow or even the rest of today. Sadly, we can say goodbye to a healthy person or someone in the prime of life just as easily as our elders and the sick.

We may not be given the extra time to sit by a bedside and outline God's gift of salvation as my friend did for his father.Therefore, we need to live each moment to its fullest. We need to take each opportunity we're given to share John 10:10 which states Christ came for that very reason - so we might live life to the full because of John 3:16.

So share Christ when you can, but always pray. For those you love. For your neighbors. For your co-workers. For those who would do you harm. For those you've never met...or maybe, only met twice.

I don't ever want to know the pain of losing someone I cherish without the certainty that I will see them again, but with all the troubles in this life, it's often easy to pray for immediate needs and bypass the eternal one.

If days like yesterday remind me to pray for the salvation of my family and others, then the tears are welcome and not without purpose.

Life out of Death

Winter seemed to last forever in New Jersey this year.  Maybe it's because we took our cue from that furry rodent, Punxsutawney Phil.  You know, that groundhog who gets pulled out of his hole every February 2nd by a man wearing a top hat and overcoat.

Maybe this year, Phil just got tired of the early morning disturbance of his slumber and decided to teach us all a lesson by predicting an early spring.  I can hear that woodchuck chuckle over our disillusionment as we continue to turn on the heat in the evenings and wear heavy coats well into April.  But I digress...

This past week, temps soared into the high 70's and low 80's. And while the weekend rolled around to unveil a more moderate 60-65, we were still blessed with two beautiful days.

My friend Pam from In The Shadow Of His Wings shares some of her stunning photography of the lake at sunrise this weekend.  As she details in her post, Jesus called her to come away with him to a quiet place and led her there.

I had a similar experience Saturday morning, although not quite early enough to catch the sunrise.  I had been wrestling with something since Wednesday so as soon as I woke to sun streaming in my window, I knew I needed to connect with Him by the waterside to unburden my heart .

When I arrived, I was met with color.  I had been so wrapped up in my troubles, I hadn't realized that some plants had begun to bloom in the past few days.


The long winter had taken its toll on my spirit, but down by the lake that all began to melt away.  I no longer felt dormant and lifeless and cold.  It is impossible not to smile in the presence of Forsythia.  

And seeing the landscape of trees beginning to bud and flower reminded me of God's promise of rebirth through nature.  The hope of life out of death.  No matter what might have been burdening my heart, it was not the end...there was another season on the horizon.

As I walked the trails, I listened to a song by Frances Drost called "A Psalm of the Free One" that says in part..."Though I walk through the valley of the death, I know that I will bloom again.  In the desert places, you are my joy, and I am yours oh Lord.  You will guide me with all of your heart.  You will love me with all of your might.  For I am your child and your friend.  And you have heard my prayer."

You may still feel the ravages of winter in your life, but rest assured, Spring is coming.  God hears your prayers and you will bloom again.  

Mend A Fence

This morning my friend is grieving the loss of her brother.  He was just 34.

A little more than 24 hours ago she got a call from the hospital that he was in bad shape and family should make the four hour trip to see him.

There wasn't much hope.

By the time she arrived, he was unconscious and via the occasional Facebook post, we all shared in the roller coaster of emotions - glimmers of hope followed by bits of bad news.

Ultimately, he lost the battle.

Whenever something like this hits close to home, we tend to stop and reflect and insert ourselves into the situation.

Sadly, there is a rift between my sister and I at this very moment.  My brother lives a life on the "edge" and I haven't seen or spoken to him in over a year.  What if that had happened to one of us?  Would there be time to say "I'm sorry?" or "I love you?"

Maybe your family situation isn't as dysfunctional as mine.  Maybe your family unit is close and loving.  But I'm willing to bet somewhere in your life - relationships with friends, family, neighbors or co-workers - there's a fence that needs to be mended.

Life can change in an instant.   

Petty differences need to be resolved. 

If we're going to live a life that declares Christ, we need to practice love, repentance and forgiveness.  Before posting this, I wrote to my sister in an effort to do just that.  If I knew how to reach my brother, I'd contact him too. I don't know if my efforts will bring resolution or not, but I had to try.

Of course, we also need to share the message of salvation with those we know.  We don't want to lose them for eternity when we lose them from this life.  But they won't give us that opportunity if there are hurts between us.  

My challenge to you today is to mend a fence.  Hug your loved ones.  Tell your friends you appreciate them.  Thank a co-worker or neighbor.  Tell them about the love of Christ by showing them through your actions.  Life is short - even shorter than we expect sometimes.  Make every moment count.

Life, Death and Birthdays

Saturday is my 51st birthday.  I can say that without too much crying these days, but I had a lot of trouble wrapping my mind around that big 'ol 50 number last year.  Perhaps people are being kind, but I'm generally told I don't look it.  I don't think I act like it, and my daughter often buys me clothes to make sure I don't dress like it ("No mom jeans, mom!").  Most days I don't feel like it - although I've noticed that it takes longer to heal from a strained muscle and I'm a little more tired than I used to be after a full day on my feet.  Rainy weather also brings out a few more aches and pains than it used to. 

The optimists say "it's just a number!"  The pessimists say "you think 50's bad...wait til you hit MY age!"  But most often, when I think about my age, I can't help but think that the number is 5...now almost 6... years more than the age my mom was when she departed this life.

I've been thinking about life and death and the years we're given a lot this week.  Two years ago, my mother's sister, my beloved "Aunt Ro", died on my birthday.  Ro had been gifted with 74 years.  Yesterday, I attended the celebration of life for a friend of mine who passed away last Thursday. Daveida had been gifted just 41.  While my aunt was far too young to die in my humble opinion, losing my mom and Daveida in their 40's was and is extremely difficult.  I took Daveida's passing hard, in part because it rocketed me back 25 years to when I said goodbye to my mom.  Like my mom, Daveida valiantly fought breast cancer for a number of years, even as it infiltrated other parts of her body.  Like my mom, she left behind 3 children and a grandchild.  Like my mom, she left this world far too soon for those who loved her.  And like my mom, she loved Jesus with everything in her, never wallowing in self pity over what she was going through, but rather spent her time encouraging others despite her own pain.

When we're young, we're contantly wishing we were older.  We want to reach those milestones of "double-digits", "sweet 16", "17 and driving", "18 and considered an 'adult'", 21 and "legal".  We're in such a rush to age we add fractions to the number...I'm 10...and a half, 12...and three quarters.  Then we hit 29 and we want it all to slow down.  Now we're 29 with a years' experience.   Why are we never satisfied to enjoy where we are in life? 

Job 14:5 says "Man's days are determined, you have decreed the number of his months and have set limits he cannot exceed."  And Psalm 90:12 says "Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom". 

We are given...gifted...a certain number of hours, days, months, years.  They are determined and we cannot exceed them.  I don't know why some are given more on this side of heaven than others, but that is the way it is, and the way it will always be.  BUT...no matter how many we have, we should "number our days aright - that we may gain a heart of wisdom."  We need to live knowing that they are numbered - not in fear of their coming to a close, but in consciously living them to the fullest, doing what we are called to do, and gaining a heart of wisdom.

My mom, my aunt, my friend...they got that.  Those who came in contact with them left in better spirits than when they came.  They left encouraged by the faith these women had, by their love for their Lord, by the knowledge - the wisdom - they had in knowing they were fulfilling God's purpose for their lives for as long as they drew breath on this earth...and that they would hear 'well done, good and faithful servent' when they finished this race and crossed into eternity. 

You may have heard the about "the dash".  There's the year you are born, and the year you die on your gravestone...and between them is the dash.  It's all the time you've spent here on earth in between those 2 dates.  It's the lives you've touched, the difference you've made, the legacy you've created.  We need to live each one of our years in the dash to the full. 

The day after Daveida went home to be with the Lord, I read this in my devotional, Jesus Calling:  "Try to view each day as an adventure, carefuly planned out by your Guide.  Instead of staring into the day that is ahead of you, attempting to program it according to your will, be attentive to Me and to all I have prepared for you.  Thank Me for this day of life, recognizing that it is a precious, unrepeatable gift."  Daveida is living the ultimate adventure today.  She, along with my mom and aunt are face to face with their precious Lord and Savior.  But for now, I still have days gifted to me here.  God's work in me is not yet done, and to bemoan the time I've been given, to complain about 'my age', is not a good use of my time.

So as I reflect on life and death and the time we're given inbetween, I'm learning a few things - don't be in a rush - don't tack on halfs and three quarters.  Don't live in the past thinking of what might have been - you will miss today's adventure.  Be grateful for the age you are - it is a gift - whether the years are 41, 74, 45 or 51.  Your days are numbered, and they are to be used 'aright'.   Love God, love others, make a difference, and gain a heart of wisdom.