The God App'

The God App'

I love my smart phone. I am rather technologically challenged, so I will not be found in the long queues of excitement at the Apple stores waiting for the anticipated release of the iPhone 6. I own just a simple Samsung Galaxy 3, but it does have the cutest bright pink bumble bee cover for it. This is not my first smart phone. Until recently I owned a Samsung Galaxy 2. I purchased the S2 with very little knowledge of all I would be able to do with such a small device, that I could pop easily into my pocket.

Several years ago I was ready for an upgrade. I drove the forty-five minutes to the nearest small city to be able to make the necessary purchase from the store owned by my service provider. I had been hearing about smart phones and I was up for the terrifying leap into the unchartered territory of the such a phone. In the shop, the pretty sales girl took me into the confusing world of mobiles and plans and costs and contracts. She presented phone after phone to me and discussed their different functions. I was zoned out with information overload. What was an app’ anyway? I just desired a mobile that could do the basics, enable me to text message my then teenaged children ( highly important) , ring them and take photos. Finally, I heard the words that sung a song to my heart, “cheapest contract”. Now I was all ears and definitely following the conversation. However, as things would turn out, the phone I really wanted, at the price I really wanted, was only available from my service provider’s call centre and not through the actual shop. I was disappointed as I was all ready to enjoy my new mobile that very day. I spent about half an hour eagerly on the phone with a professional sales assistant.  I completed the unavoidable information they required, and my new mobile phone was placed in the mail to be speedily delivered within five working days. So I waited, and waited, and waited, not so patiently. After seven working days, I contacted my service provider, only to be told that according to their records, my mobile phone had been not only been dispatched, but had reached my local parcel centre and had been, according to them, received by me. Alas they were mistaken. 

Four weeks later, after many prayers and God’s divine intervention, I finally did obtain my first smart phone. Those four weeks had been fraught with misery. My service provider was absolutely certain I had received my new phone, and I was absolutely certain I had not. I was placed on a merry go round between Australian call centres and off shore call centres in India, all to no avail. No one would help me. No one could answer me, and they most definitely were not going to supply a replacement phone for the one I was about to start paying for and didn’t have in my possession. God hears and answers our prayers and I contacted the local Ombudsman, whose job it was to make sure that agencies fulfil their functions properly and improve their delivery of their services to the public. The Ombudsman is an independent and impartial watchdog. With several swift communications between the Ombudsman and my service provider, my contract was suddenly terminated, with no loss to myself and I was given permission to freely go to a store and start my purchase all over again. 

With an appreciation of God and a song in my heart, I departed for the local store, and that is when I entered the land of mobile phone data. The time spent relentlessly contacting my service provider at Indian call centres and with no outcome, had not been worthless. It had in fact taken me into a one week window of opportunity created by my service provider to lure customers into the  wonderful world of gigabyte usage. I finally received the phone I had desired, at the price I had desired, but with the sudden delight of an upgrade of 2 Gb for the same cost. I had no idea when I first held that phone the power of communication it held. 

I am an extrovert by nature. I love to talk and I love my smart phone. Here I am now with a phone full of apps from diary’s to gardening journals to the bible. However, I love the communication apps. At my finger tips I can be in touch with any friend, at any time, at any place. I can be a passenger in the car, standing in a line at the check out, sitting at a doctors waiting room and yet be in touch with family and friends. I have facebook, instagram, viber, whatsapp, wee chat, and the facebook messenger app. With precious family and loving friends living far away and my dear church family several hours away, my apps get a work out. My best friend lives overseas. We are in constant communication with each other, all day, every day. I have varying ring tones for each app and during the day little tunes and rings and dings sing out to me for their attention, particularly from my best friend. My ears are tuned in to hear her calls and messages and I am quick to respond.

If there was a God app,’ would I download it? If my God app’ played a little tune of “Amazing Grace”, would I dash in eager happiness to hear from Him, and respond joyfully back? What would He say? What would I say? Does God have first place in my heart and in my communications? We all have a God App’ but it doesn’t need a mobile phone. It’s called prayer. Is my mind lifted moment by moment in thoughtful contemplation and quiet communion with God despite all that is going on around me? Do I turn to Him to share as readily as I do on my apps’? Do I message Him first through prayer when I have a question, a comment, a thought, or I need His divine help? God is more desirous to hear from me than any of my dearly beloved family or friends whom I message. Am I longing to hear from Him?

1 Thess 5:17, 17 Pray without ceasing; in everything give thanks; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus

Eph 6:18 With all prayer and petition pray at all times in the Spirit, and with this in view, be on the alert with all perseverance and petition for all the saints

1 John 5:14 This is the confidence which we have before Him, that, if we ask anything according to His will, He hears us.

Cards of Decoration

Cards of Decoration

I am a card person! I love cards! I have cards from many years stashed away in musty, bundled piles. I have discoloured, ageing cards from my wedding day, from baby births, from dearest loved ones of long ago. I have hand made cards, created with loving thought and received by me with wonder. Collections of cards filled with romantic love and shared tender moments between my husband and I, are affectionately treasured. I have cards that the chubby hands of childhood made so sweetly and carefully, with hearts full of love for their Mother. I have farewell cards tearfully signed and cards of friendship from hearts brimming with care, cards of thankfulness, pouring out words of appreciation and cards of encouragement, during those moments when life fell apart. I love cards.

As I joyfully receive a card, I place it fondly on a book shelf in our lounge room to enjoy, to be able to stop and read at times. Cards decorate our home with the thoughtful words of loved ones. My best friend lives far away in the USA. Her cards are precious and treasured, a reminder of the happy times we have spent together. Her cards express her heart in friendship and I have strung them up across a wall in my bedroom as bunting, complete with pink bows and pretty butterflies. It is a charming decoration.

The Christmas of 2001 was a very special Christmas for me. That year my husband and I received very carefully chosen Christmas cards. Our precious daughters, then aged, 12, 10 and 8 years, had spent the year delivering a weekly newspaper to the local neighbourhood. The girls traipsed willingly, most of the time, around the quiet streets nearby, each thursday morning, with back packs full of folded newspapers, placing one in every letter box. It was a huge job which entailed the help of Mum and Dad as the bundles of newspapers and colourful advertising brochures were picked up each week at 5am from a delivery site, brought home and sorted into piles. Each newspaper was inserted with a variety of leaflets, folded neatly and held together with a rubber band. Finally after hours of methodically working, they were ready to deliver. Out we would head in rain or shine ,cold or heat to bring the local paper to everyone before the day was out. This enabled our girls to enjoy earning some money while gaining the skills of budgeting wisely and of returning to God a faithful tithe. This Christmas our daughters had squirrelled away their hard earned money, saving it to buy my husband and I very special Christmas presents, and the cards. 

Clutching their purses with their money, our daughters asked to be taken to the the local country town’s very small shopping centre. The three of them took themselves off on a shopping spree, carefully calculating their combined savings to excitedly make their purchases. My husband hung lazily around the lounge area at the shops waiting for their return. When they arrived home, the car was full of laughter and chatter, secrets and concealed purchased. Soon the gifts and cards were ensconced out of sight, giggles remained and love wrapped our home in a blanket of contentment.

That Christmas, amidst a flurry of brightly coloured wrapping paper spread across the lounge room floor, the excitement of the presents the girls gave us filled the house. We opened our gifts from the beautiful ,delicate pink bath mats to the sturdy garden pruners  to the added delights of rose scented toiletries and other thoughtfully purchased gifts. Then there was the wonder of the cards that showed their fervent love for us, their parents. Now each year those cards come out as decorations, to adorn our house with Christmas cheer and to bring a smile to my face as I remember that Christmas of 2001.

The yellowed cards of long ago, stored carefully away, the  beautiful bunting of cards gracefully adorning my bedroom wall, the cards that decorate only at Christmas time and the loving cards that sit on our lounge room book shelf remind me of the greatest card of all, the Bible. God sent me words of deepest love, of tender friendship,  encouragement and hope, thoughtfully placed in card after card and all contained with in the Bible. With joyful anticipation He longs for me to read His words.Do I read it daily or is my Bible like some of my ageing cards, just stored away to be pulled out occasionally, for Sabbaths only?  Is my Bible like the beauty of the many cards draped across my wall, as an adornment in my bedroom, just sitting quietly on my bedside table?  Can a family Bible be found in the centre of my home like the cards upon a  book shelf, thought about frequently, but only opened spasmodically to be read? God wants me to open His Word each day and with wonder and delight, discover the card He has for me. He wants me to smile at His love, to wipe away tears as His heart calls to mine, to be encouraged, empowered, uplifted and filled with His Spirit. 

Ps 119:18  Open my eyes, that I may behold Wonderful things from Your law.

Rom 15:4 For whatever was written in earlier times was written for our instruction, so that through perseverance and the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope

Josh 1:8 Keep this Book of the Law always on your lips; meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do everything written in it. Then you will be prosperous and successful.

Prickled Balls of Spikes

Prickled Balls of Spikes

In the inky black of darkness, echoing across the glassy lake in front of our home, and bouncing off the surrounding hills, was a loud, abrupt, metallic clang. It awoke us from our peaceful slumbering. Again the sound pierced the night with eeriness. Startled, my husband Michael, leaped from the bed as the penetrating noise continued to reverberate around the paddocks. Dispelling the darkness with a flood of light, he strode purposefully outside to investigate the ruckus. He found our small, protective dog on his chain excitedly by his kennel. The dog kennel was a home made job that served it’s purpose well. Pieces of corrugated iron had been screwed together and hastily painted in a rusty brown. It sat under a shady gum tree in a  dusty place of dry, bush grasses near the house. Suddenly, with a lunge, our dog flung himself with a frenzy around the side of the dog kennel, his chain clattering loudly in a bedlam of noise against the corrugated iron. Upon further inspection, my husband discovered an echidna busily digging away under the back of the kennel in search of ants and entirely ignoring the panting black face of our crazed dog.

Echidna’s are an Australian mammal that are also classified  as a monotreme. Monotremes lay eggs and feed their young with milk. The female echidna digs a burrow with her long sharp front claws. Inside her snug home she curls up and lays a single, leathery egg into a pouch ,where, in ten days time, will hatch a hairless, spike free baby puggle. The cute, little puggle, licks milk from his mother’s skin. When the spines start to grow the puggle leaves the pouch but continues to drink milk from his mother until it’s six months old.The echidna’s body is covered in dark brown hair and on his back and sides are sharp hard spines. They only eat ants and termites. There, behind our dog kennel, with his  beak like snout, an echidna was actively whipping out his long thin, sticky tongue and consuming large black ants.

The mystery was solved, the dog settled down and we knew we had an echidna living in the area. This was an educational opportunity not to be missed. It isn’t often you can observe an echidna in the wild. For several days we saw him waddling from side to side in his slow gait, his excellent sense of smell leading him to ants, which his tongue quickly conveyed within to be eaten. The echidna has no teeth just hard pads inside his mouth which he uses to grind the ants up before delectably swallowing them. If we got too close to him, in self defence, he would curl himself up into a tight ball of sharp spiky needles. Other times he could dig so fast that he seemed to disappear into the dust, leaving only a rounded ball of prickled spines. He was a master at self protection.

After observing the echidna, we decided to have a closer inspection and learn some more. As Michael reached down to pick up him up, he immediately contorted into a prickly sphere. Getting his hands under the sides of the echidna, and getting spiked in the process, Michael was able to hold him while he then unfurled his body. There staring at us, with his beady little black eyes and his long beaked nose and his a tiny little tail, was a wild echidna. We brought him inside and placed him in the an old disused baby play pen, to observe him more closely. The echidna’s first desire was to try to frantically bury himself in the bottom of the play pen, spines of protection glaring at us, before slowly straightening out and peering around at us. We enjoyed our short time of being able to touch him and watch him before we released the echidna happily back into the wild.

I wonder if God looks at me and sees my emotional responses to life’s bruises and neglects in much the same way as an echidna responds? When hurtful or stinging words come my way do I emotionally hide? When my heart is heavy, am I busy shutting people out with my exterior of self protection, that prevents the healing rays of God’s love to penetrate deep into my soul? Do I curl up in self pity, withdrawing within myself? Am I busy disguising my feelings of thinking I am  unloveable, unappreciated, unwanted or misunderstood, behind a facade? Am I prickly towards others? Am I an “Echidna Christian” busy defending myself , protecting myself or do I run to God, my strong and sure defence? Do I allow Him to be my refuge, my defender and my strength? 

Prov 18:10 The name of the LORD is a strong tower: the righteous runs into it, and is safe.

Ps 144:2 He is my loving God and my fortress, my stronghold and my deliverer, my shield, in whom I take refuge

Ps 31:20 You hide them in the secret place of Your presence from the conspiracies of man; You keep them secretly in a shelter from the strife of tongues.

Glistening Rain

Glistening Rain

The countdown was on. It was the month of August in Australia and spring officially starts on September the first. I had, already, with much thought and care, planted my spring garden seeds into containers. Our kitchen area created the perfect glass house  effect as they sat by the large plate window in the warm, winter sun by the snug, wood fire. However, this winter, day after day, we caught only small snatches of sunlight and clear, azure skies. Scattered showers and gusty winds had thrown their mantle of misery across the wintery landscape. The yearning for spring grew deep in my heart as the days passed by in a blustery gust of cold and wet.

Finally, in great excitement, the last day of winter arrived. It was bright and clear, warmth kissed the brown earth and the promise of spring  was upon us. I was on a mission. The calendar said spring was here for this coming week. In a flurry of anticipation, I busily organised the day around planting and weeding and tidying up the vegetable garden area. My husband, Michael, was conscripted to the cause, and off we traipsed into the heat of the day. We have two garden beds, sixteen feet by eight feet; both of them neatly bordered with wooden railway sleepers. The area surrounding our garden beds is covered with dusky coloured pavers and fully fenced. A flourishing passion fruit vine  clambers slowly over the fence; while rounds of dry cut wood stand neatly stacked to the side, ready for chopping. At the back lay scattered piles of chopped wood, unwanted bark, saw dust and scraggly weeds struggling to grow up between the pavers. Last season’s pumpkin vine lay dry and prickly through the tangled growth of tall grass and spilled out towards the garden.

Eagerly I turned the soft moist soil with the garden fork, stooping  to pull out each undesirable weed. Michael was happily occupied with methodically stacking previously chopped firewood and noisily cutting up old timber palings. My mind was whirling with the happy thoughts of all I would accomplish in the week ahead, from cleaning the pavers to eradicating the old pumpkin vine. I was enthusiastic and dedicated. I spent my day preparing the dark rich soil and planting out thirty corn plants and twelve zucchini plants, leaving the other seedlings in their containers to mature some more. I finished by spreading thickly a layer of yellowed sugar cane mulch across the garden bed.

I spent a few days hovering over each tiny plant, fussing with all the love of a mother over their tender care. I was enjoying the arrival of spring, the brightly coloured flowers blooming in my front garden, the sunny skies and the warmer weather. Unexpectedly, a roll of deep thunder echoed across the skies, a blast of cold air hit and blackened clouds unfurled themselves; rapidly blotting out the brightness of the sun and stealthily darkening the garden. I looked anxiously outside with a sense of foreboding. Abruptly the heavens opened and the outpouring of icy cold rain launched itself like arrows swiftly to the earth. It was torrential and I peered nervously towards the vegetable garden. The rain turned into tiny pellets of white ice. It was now hailing. Then back to teeming.  Would my seedlings survive? Would the leaves be damaged? Was the rain too fast, too heavy and too much? I stood there praying. With a blast of chilly wind the darkened clouds parted and the sun shone through swift and sure. Each rain drop fell, glistening like jewels to the ground. Rays of light in thin shafts beamed a radiance through the rain, creating  an enchanting wonderland. It was a world sparkling with beauty. I stood in awe.

The past year has found me feeling very vulnerable, fragile and weak like those little plants before the raging torrents of trials, copiously flowing from the skies. I have felt flattened and knocked and left wondering when it was ever going to cease. The brightness of God’s promises had lit up my heart with an iridescence of joy like streaks of light across the darkened corners of my mind. His word shone like gemstones shimmering through tears. Just as my little plants not just survived but thrived through the storm; so too I have hope, hope in the  abounding love and goodness of the Lord towards me. The lustre of His word glitters with a sheen upon your heart as well as mine. Will you believe Him? Will I ? 

Neh 8:10 “..Do not be grieved, for the joy of the LORD is your strength.”

Ps 34:17-19 When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears and delivers them out of all their troubles. The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit. Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivers him out of them all.

James 1:2-4 Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.

Do Not Shake The Trees

Do Not Shake The Trees

It was steadily pouring rain. I peered hopefully through the windshield of the car at the grey, misty, wet world outside. My husband, Michael, and I were driving several hours to Sydney to meet up with our church family to attend the popular Cherry Blossom Festival, at the Japanese Gardens. Suddenly my phone sang a little trill and I eagerly picked it up to see what the message was. I had received an announcement on our church’s 'Whatsapp' thread; the plans for the garden tour were officially cancelled. I looked at Michael, and in great optimism we discussed the message and then we decided to continue our journey. The weather remained bleak as we drove slowly up to the entrance gates and we were the second car to park. Garden attendants were milling around the entryway in their bright fluorescent  wet weather gear, bored and aimless. In hopeful anticipation of a change in weather, Michael and I balanced our large umbrellas with cameras, coats and warm wooly hats. 

The rain eased slowly and although the walkways were awash with water we enjoyed a pristine world of quiet, refreshing peacefulness. There were no expected crowds of people, jostling and talking excitedly. Sparkling diamond tear drops clung graciously to the ends of petals, leaves and fronds. The scent of rain filled the air as we breathed deeply and the beauty of vivid colours enriched our hearts. We were enveloped by a soothing Asian ambience of delightfulness. Here, on several acres, were recreated in miniature; traditional idealised Japanese landscapes.We beheld the tranquil setting of  a serene lake bordered with walk ways of fine white pebbles,lush gardens, ornamental blossoming trees and a gentle murmuring waterfall. The landscape took in a quaint wooden tea house and charming wooden bridges with splashes of red colour adorning them. In enraptured wonder we slowly made our way around the gardens; stopping frequently to capture each new delight on camera. It was a visual treat of tastefulness and colour. Stone lanterns, bamboo water spouts and koi swimming gracefully in the lake, enthralled us with an oriental atmosphere. 

Blossoming cherry trees adorned the gardens forming an elegant arched walk way in the midst of the balance and poise of natural beauty. Attractively placed trees garnished the grounds, spreading their graceful limbs laden with jewels of pinks and scarlet as they reached cautiously towards the skies. Scattered through out the gardens were signs. The signs read, ‘Do not shake the trees’. Childhood memories of  flowering plum trees came sharply to my mind and the laughter and fun of friends as we shook those trees and watched a flurry of pretty petals come tumbling down around us. The beautiful flowers on those lovely trees were delicately in place, held on by a whisper of hope. The signs were a constant reminder of the vulnerability of each and every colourful flower clinging tenderly to the branches.

All around us in the garden of life are cherry blossoms; people, who although they wear a smile, hide the pain and hurt of quietened tears. In silence they maintain a frail hold on God, on joy and on life. Perhaps you are a blossom. Perhaps I am too. Maybe it’s our children. Faintly clutching to thin strands of light, reaching in hope with uncertainty towards strength, towards love. The signs say ‘Do not shake the trees.’ 

John 13:34 "A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another, even as I have loved you, that you also love one another.

Eph 4:32 Be kind to one another, tender-hearted, forgiving each other, just as God in Christ also has forgiven you.

From Shame to Honour

From Shame to Honour

This is a “once upon a time” fairy tale like story, however it is true. Once upon a time a bouncing, baby girl was born and named Mary Elizabeth. Her Scottish parents adored her and her older sisters and brother, Patricia, Jane and John, hugged and kissed her. The family lived on a  picturesque island called Tasmania, south of the mainland of Australia. She grew as all little Australian girls grew, enjoying an outdoor lifestyle of sports, participating in the active games of basketball and hockey. She added the pleasures  of piano, flute and clarinet lessons to her already full and abundant life. Friends and family and happy activities filled her with the joys of a simple Australian life in the quiet city of Hobart. All too soon the young Mary blossomed into a beautiful, elegant lady and she entered university, and chose to study a Double degree in Commerce and Law. Soon the busyness of work and travel abroad filled her early adult life. 

Then came the year 2000. For every Australian that year was indelibly etched in our memories, for that was the year that Sydney held the Olympics. The fervour of excitement painted the city in a wash of vitality. Olympic fever was at an all time high, and there was a vibrancy of eager expectation as Olympians poured into the bustling city, along with international tourists, world leaders, royalty and Australians from around the country. One of those to journey to Australia was Frederik from Denmark, and although jet lagged, he allowed his Greek cousins to convince him to head out for a night on the town to meet some of the locals. They made their way to the old historic Slip Inn, and there he saw her. Frederik met Mary for the first time. 

It was love at first sight. Frederik described it this way, “If you had to visualise it, it was like a summer landscape in moonlight. Still water in a pond - evocative - there is a surface, but also depth. Harmony and tranquility and lots of kindness and beauty.” Frederick was smitten. However, Frederick was no ordinary  handsome young man from a Nordic country. He was the Crown Prince, heir apparent to the royal throne of Denmark. The Prince had fallen in  love with a commoner. It became a love story that all romantic fairy tales are made of. Three years later, in Rome, on bended knee, Prince Frederik proposed to his beloved Mary, presenting her with a stunning engagement ring featuring an emerald-cut diamond and two emerald-cut ruby baguettes.The noble Danish court announced that Queen Margrethe II  had given her consent. On May 4th, 2004, a regal wedding of dazzling splendour and pageantry took Mary Donaldson, a commoner, to the position of Crown Princess Mary, one day to become Queen Consort of Denmark.The hearts of Australians were filled with adoration for our honourable Princess and her Princely husband. We have joyed in the delights of the pitter patter of royal feet at Brockdorff's Palace in Copenhagen, as the births of Prince Christian, Princess Isabella and the young twins Prince Vincent and Princess Josephine add to their parent’s dream like story. Prince Frederik and Princess Mary continue to live happily ever after. 

A commoner becomes a princess. The ordinary becomes honoured. It isn’t just a fair tale like story. It is also the story of salvation. Our holy King takes us, the guilty and the shamed by sin, and invests us with honour in heavenly places. He is smitten, and He longs to bring us to palaces on high to reign with Him forever. Me, of lowly reputation, becomes the bride of my godly King. I am taken from the degradation of the sinner to the heights of distinction. Salvation, an exchange of my rags to the dignity of a garment of righteousness, through the forgiveness of sins and the gift of eternal life. We all warm to  a “happy ever after love story” because it is a reflection of the deepest yearnings of our own heart for a life and a love outside of this world of sin and shame. This story can be your story. This story can be mine. Will we say “I do”?

Isa 54:4,5 "Fear not, for you will not be put to shame; And do not feel humiliated, for you will not be disgraced; But you will forget the shame of your youth.… For your husband is your Maker, Whose name is the LORD of hosts; And your Redeemer is the Holy One of Israel, Who is called the God of all the earth.”

Matt 22:2 "The kingdom of heaven is like a king who prepared a wedding banquet for his son.

Rev 19:7 Let us rejoice and be glad and give him glory! For the wedding of the Lamb has come, and his bride has made herself ready.

Leaning on Jesus

Leaning on Jesus

It was late winter in Australia and the excitement of approaching spring escalated with a trip to the local nursery. There I stood gazing in wonder at the metal racks filled with packages of seeds. Bright pictures of the hopeful fruit to be achieved from the seeds, adorned the outside of the packets. My mind tumbled with dreams and plans as I enthusiastically worked out my purchases. Armed with many different packets and several heavy bags of seed raising mix, I headed home to start the planting. Across our large, wooden kitchen table I sorted out the paper packages, placing the right amount of plastic containers  next to each one. I had tomatoes, cherry tomatoes, beetroot, cabbage, corn, zucchini and many more all vying for a place on my table. Outside, on a round plastic table, I had the seed raising mixture, scissors and a spoon all ready for the next stage in the project. I carried a packet and selected containers to the table outside, spooning the damp dirt into each punnet. Then I snipped open the package cautiously, and tipped tiny seeds into the palm of my hand. Each seed I placed lovingly and tenderly into the dirt, covering them over and with a spray of water, I carefully moistened the soil. Finally the seeds were all tucked away soundly under their blanket of earth. I placed the trays of planted seeds by the large glass window at the back of our house where the warm winter sun streamed brightly in each day and where they were kept snugly warm by the fire at night.

The thought of the fresh, home grown snow peas, slightly fried with garlic and soy sauce made my mouth water, so I chose to grow the pods. The seeds were large and round like faded dried peas. Within days after being attentively planted and lovingly cared for, tiny green shoots appeared. With in a week, two little leaves adorned each sprout and with all the tenderness of a mother watching over her baby, I continued to nurture their growth. Soon the seedlings were several inches tall and crowding their container with life.Fresh new leaves adorned their vigorous upward growth and tiny fine tendrils started their horizontal journey. Before long a congested growth of snow peas over flowed their punnetts, while their long thin tendrils reached, twisted and twirled their way around their cramped neighbours. My snow peas were growing and leaning haphazardly on each other for support. They would never reach their full potential in such a state. It was certainly time to transplant them into the outdoor bed I had prepared for them, with a sturdy trellis ready for them to climb on. Separating the seedlings was an arduous job, as I broke tendrils and tried to carefully identify each individual plant. Finally, they were planted, detached from each other, and spaced evenly apart  by the framed trellis. Soon their tiny tendrils reached and curled and entwined themselves around the climbing trellis. Higher and higher they grew under the gentle, warming sun. Milky white flowers embellished the plants with the promise of pods to come as they gained strength and height, clinging tenaciously onto the netting on the frame. Days turned into weeks and with the weeks came the development  of the long ,bright green, snow pea pods, ready to harvest and enjoy.

The growth of the snow peas brought to my mind the growth God desires to see in me. I naturally desire to stay snugly in my container, surrounded by others of whom I can lean on, connect with, and entwine my life around. We are all concerned about what people think of us, our reputations. We all desire to please people, to be liked, to receive their approval. We hand others the control over our lives as we wrap our lives around them. We lean on each other, comparing ourselves among ourselves, needing love and feeling empty. We become like the snow peas, over crowded and cluttered in their containers. Tendrils that God created to support our growth upward on a strong solid frame of Jesus, we use to mingle ourselves around each other in a mass of co-dependency. God’s plan is for us to mature and flourish individually, to fulfil His purpose in our lives, to lean on His strength and develop the fruit of the Spirit. Today I am challenged to seek God and His glory first and to weave my life around Him.

John 12:42, 43 “The Pharisees …. loved the approval of men rather than the approval of God.”

John 5:44 “How can you believe, if you accept praise from one another and don't seek the praise that comes from the only God?”

Matt 22:37 Jesus said unto him, You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.