Tall Trees and Tiny Trophies

Jeremiah 17:7-8 compares those who trust in God to riparian trees, planted near the river.  It reads, "Such trees are not bothered by the heat, or worried by the long months of drought.  Their leaves stay green, and they never stop producing fruit."

Never.  Stop.  Producing.  Fruit.

There is a part of me that hears those last four words and begins to itch with shame over the seeming emphasis on "producing".

Another part of me hears "never stop" and immediately wishes for Saturday morning.

However, when I hear "fruit", I start thinking, "So...what is fruit?  And how much fruit do I need to be producing in order to be considered productive?"

I'm a gardener.  No matter whether it's tomatoes or squash, every time one of my plants begins to not just blossom, but fruit, I get excited.  Indeed if a tomato plant that's offered virtually nothing all summer suddenly surprises me with a shiny red treasure, it's not long before I tell someone--usually my husband--that my sad little plant produced something.  And then I drag him outside to see that, yes, indeed, I grew a thing.  It's a big deal.  I celebrate these moments.

Sometimes, my plants don't produce much.  It's not terribly surprising--I live in Tucson, Arizona.  This place is like boot camp for gardeners.  If a person can learn to adapt their thumb to be green here--a person can grow plants anywhere.  No kidding.  This place is HOT and DRY, and will crush your gardening dreams like peanut shells on the dance floor of an expensive steak restaurant.

If, despite these dry and dusty conditions, a plant grows, it's practically a miracle.  If that same plant produces a fruit, it borders on a phenomenon.  We expect growing to be hard here...so we celebrate even the tiniest fruit.  We have to.

For so many reasons, this past month in our home has been a lot like growing things in Tucson.

Tough.

But when my son got to school on time last Friday, it was a small victory.  Believe me, it was fruit.  Every  morning for the past month--with the exception of the very first day of school--it has been a battle to get our son out of the door.  No casualties in this battle--except to my pride--as I am THAT parent that brings their kid to school late.  Every.  Single.  Day.

C'mon, Mom.  Can't you get your kid here on time?

If people only knew what an accomplishment getting him to school at all really is.  Believe me, it is fruit.  It's been a looooong month of drought, and I am celebrating as much as I can.  I have to choose to look at the fruit and not the shriveled, dusty vines alongside it.

So, maybe say a prayer for me.  No matter what happens tomorrow morning, I'm going to look for the fruit in the situation, and make a point of celebrating it.  Tiny, tiny successes--that's the kind of fruit I can never stop producing.

God willing.

Unwrapping the Present

This week, I published my first ministry newsletter in almost a year. You can read it here.


I've known for a long time that I needed to "catch people up" and send a newsletter out, but every time I thought of sitting down and writing an update, I'd break into something like a cold sweat. And then, another unforeseen...and usually painful...event would occur, and I'd be right back into survival mode, my dread over writing a newsletter moot as I waded knee-deep in new drama.


I don't know about you, but my own expectation for a newsletter communiqué consists of a family member giving a pleasant and encouraging update about each member of the family--the operative word being pleasant. I have dear friends who are missionaries, and I have other friends who are just really passionate about communicating about their families. Either way, these are the kind of newsletters many of them write. And that's perfectly okay. Good, even.


For months now, I just haven't had it in me to write a newsletter like that. Writing from any kind of angle other than my own painful present seemed impossible, and writing from the painful present seemed embarassing. For months, I've been suffering from the shame of not writing a newsletter and the shame of people knowing about the pain of the present. It's felt like riding on a bike as fast as you can because you're late in the middle of a hailstorm.


In other words...bad.


I struggle with being a people-pleaser. And a perfectionist. And my newsletter was neither pleasing to read nor perfect. I found three typos.


I struggle with maligned thinking, particularly the kind that says, "People who follow Jesus are supposed to have their lives in order...especially leaders." I am acutely aware that I NEED Jesus because my life is in no way in order. There are glimmers where I can see what I think is a plan weaving together, but most of the time, the plan is over my head and I'm tangled in a sea of yarn.


However, after a season of loss like the one our family has had recently, here is the gift I find when I disentangle from the yarn long enough to unwrap the present: it IS impossible that we've survived this season.


Our boat SHOULD HAVE capsized.


When Hebrews 13:5-6 reminds us: "God has said, 'I will never fail you. I will never abandon you,'' we can say with confidence, "'The LORD is my helper, so I will have no fear. What can mere people do to me?'" We can say it because it's true. My family has gone five of the last nine months without 2/3 of our income. The circumstances that occurred to make that happen were completely unforeseen. We did not have a leg up on the situation. We were in no way prepared. Yet, God has provided for us. Money that we didn't even know was coming came. A car that we needed was practically given to us. Food that we did not buy was delivered to our doorstep. Gardens that we did not plant sprung up from our backyard. Jobs that we did not expect were offered. On particularly lousy days, texts that I did not expect popped up on my phone.


"I am with you always, even to the end of the age." Matthew 28:20


"Be strong and courageous! Do not be afraid or discouraged. For the LORD your God is with you wherever you go." Joshua 1:9


"Don't be afraid, for I am with you. Don't be discouraged, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will hold you up with my victorious right hand." Isaiah 41:10


When I unwrap the present, I am struck by the fact that we did not capsize, though we should have. I know where my hope and confidence lies...and it's not in my circumstances.


I thank God for that.