Little Hibiscus Tree

My beautiful hibiscus tree had a great summer season. At one point I counted 65 buds in the afternoon sun, delighted with coral gems blooming four and five at a time! They would greet me every morning when I stepped outside, Bible in hand, to spend time with the Lord. That tree breathed fresh encouragement to my soul every time I passed. Ah, thank you for seasons of refreshing, Father.

If you’ve been to my house you know how much I love flowers, but I especially care about that tree. It is a remembrance of the years with my husband. I even matched the color of its petals to paint the two Adirondack chairs (an anniversary gift from our kids) where Frank and I would sip coffee, reminiscing about our lives together in the tropics and dreaming about the future.

Last winter I thought she would die. She suffered a blast of bitter cold in the process of moving. I pruned her severely and tried protecting her through the transition, but arriving in my new home, all the leaves withered up and dropped to the floor. It was a horrible sight--but I couldn’t give up. I wrapped it with decorations and kept watering and hoping… even speaking to its lifeless limbs! “You have to survive! You and I both have to get through this somehow!”

I thought by determination I could see her through life’s traumas. More water, more sun, and more prayer for renewal. That’s why I shared a sense of sheer victory when she came through it with brilliant blooms like messengers of hope.

We had beautiful warm days this October, still in the sixties, and the tree kept blooming prolifically. Then temperatures started dipping. We reached a meager 34 degrees one morning and the leaves frosted. “How am I going to save you?” I whispered. “I need someone to help me.”

My landlord, a tree guy, stopped by just in time and together we carried it up and across the threshold, placing it lovingly beneath the skylights so it could continue to enjoy the same hours of sun it was getting on the patio. A perfect environment! I hoped it would thrive again and appreciate returning to the warmth of my kitchen. I thought I was saving it, but would it respond?

I think I know how God feels. He is the vinedresser. He cares and provides for us, and sent Jesus to carry our burdens. Then he took us lovingly in his own arms wanting to bring us into the warmth of his fellowship. The question is, will we respond?

Sadly, my little tree is in a state of shock again. All the leaves have been turning yellow and falling on the floor. Sometimes, I admit, I feel like doing that too. (Just like me, a hibiscus doesn’t handle change very well.) Every morning I'm sweeping withered leaves and the upper branches are almost empty. Here we go again, I huffed under my breath. What a terrible waste!

But what’s this? Just when I was losing hope, one more flower bloomed in brilliant red yesterday morning. It’s very low on the branches and hanging on for dear life at a place I wouldn’t ever expect to find a bloom. Oh God, you are too much. You’re reminding me of your continuing story with another message of perseverance.

I need to be like that!

Bloom, even when everything’s against you. Go the extra mile when the chill of winter is upon you. Break out in love for no other reason. Forgive or reach out to someone who’s hurting when you feel like you have nothing left. Smile for someone else’s happiness even if your own heart is broken.

Even if no one sees, no one else knows or understands but you and He alone,

bloom for God!

“Being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” Phil 1:6

Raku Firing

A few weeks ago a dear friend asked me to her home to take part in a night of raku firing. Diane is a potter who loves exploring new techniques and mastering her craft. She goes to great lengths to learn and perfect every aspect, even to the extent of making her own kiln.

Raku is Japanese meaning “enjoyment,” and dates back to the 16th century. Raku pottery involves a glazing and firing process in a kiln with temperatures reaching as high as 1800°F.  The glaze creates a unique bronzed finish in the pottery in the reduction chamber, then a post fire processing draws the oxygen out of the pottery.

Patterns and colors are unpredictable since they are created through this natural process of oxygen removal. We experimented with a number of natural enhancements melting feathers, horse hair and leaves on the pottery while it was still red hot. The items burned off against the surface of the pottery leaving their indelible patterns on the clay.

After the firing is complete, the pottery is dunked in water to "freeze" the patterns. The reason the clay doesn’t crack under the drastic temperature change is that it is specifically designed to withstand thermal shock.

Witnessing the fiery mystery of raku as evening fell in the backyard accentuated the mystique of this ancient art form. Mosquitos came out and nibbled at our elbows and ankles but we kept working, engrossed in the process, unwilling to abandon our creations. The volcanic glow of the kiln, the heat of inhuman temperatures, and the sudden freezing and hissing of the pottery seemed like an alien encounter in the night.

I couldn’t help but think of God and how the breath of his nostrils created the universe. By the power of his word he called galaxies forth and in the end he will also melt this world with a fiery judgment.

As we come before him we are humbled in his presence, reduced as in a great reduction chamber. The Lord melts away the dross, purges, and cleanses. Under his divine touch and the tutelage of his Word, we are forever imprinted.

When the Almighty touches us by the power of his Spirit he leaves an indelible mark on our souls. Every life is uniquely stamped and there are no two pieces alike. This is his purpose and it is magical, beyond our understanding. We are being transformed into his image, prepared for glory! This is the joy of creation. I am fearfully and wonderfully made and God makes all things new!

Though we face hard times and pass through dark trials in the night of our soul, our Creator is not willing to sleep or abandon the work of his hands. He labors to finish what he has begun and will continue faithfully until time has run its course and we are dressed as a bride, complete in him. Thus, being fully prepared, without spot or blemish, we will be presented as a trophy of his grace for all eternity. Glorious!

God says, I will complete the good work I have begun in you until the Day of my appearing. Though night is coming, live as children of the day. Stand fast and be pure, even in times of trial. I am refining you that your faith may be made strong. Persevere and you will receive the crown of life. 

Windsor Chairs

I’ve been corresponding with a girlfriend who’s suffering a terrible divorce. Last week she was served papers by an unfaithful husband--a self-absorbed jerk who’s been cheating on her for some time. Though the circumstances of our losses vary greatly, I sure understand the awful whirling emotions. How could this be? Where do I go from here? Oh Lord, when all seems lost what do I DO?

My friend mentioned a strange compulsion to go out and buy new kitchen chairs and that triggered memories with me too. I did the same thing when Frank was in the middle of his fight with radiation and chemo.

I was walking around in circles saying silly things, feeling out of control as life was unraveling around me. One day, I told Frank, I'm going to go out and find some matching kitchen chairs if it’s the last thing I do. I couldn’t explain my odd obsession, but at least this was something I could FIX in a world that was falling apart.

It felt good to remove the wobbly and creaking old things from my presence and bring in something whole and strong to our little abode. Yes, this one thing I could do and it brought deep satisfaction. Sometimes, a task as menial as finding kitchen chairs can be the one thing that stabilizes you.

I still have those kitchen chairs around my table, sturdy as oak can be. They are black and walnut windsors, handsome and strong, but my husband is gone. Life can pull the seat right out from under you, can't it?

Many a day, I feel as wooden as windsors, and just as empty. I too was created for purpose. I was made to be full, but now I stand as a silent reminder of the family that once gathered here.

So much has changed!

I don't believe it's God's purpose to hurt us. When the chair is gone, his hands are still waiting to catch us and put the pieces back. HE is a loving Father who hates to see us fall.

But one thing is unchanged. I’m still standing! My legs are firmly planted on solid ground! I have staked my claim on such promises as the blessing to Asher:

"...your strength will equal your days. There is no one like God… who rides on the heavens to help you and on the clouds in his majesty. The eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms... "

Deut 33:25-29