Free Indeed

July 4, 2017July 4, 2017 ~ Beth ~ Leave a comment

Freedom is not merely the happy state of a blessed country. It is also can, should, and far more crucially, be the state of a soul. And if the souls of the people of a country are not free, can it really be said that such a country is free?

“Jesus said…“If you abide in my word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free…“ (John 8:31-32)

“For freedom Christ has set us free…Only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another. For the whole law is fulfilled in one word: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” But if you bite and devour one another, watch out that you are not consumed by one another.” (Galatians 5:1, 13-15)

Perfumed Palace

June 10, 2017June 8, 2017 ~ Beth ~ Leave a comment

A little farmhouse on a lake is a very nice place to live, but there are a couple times every year when something happens to make it feel pretty much like a palace. Like when the big old lilac bush out front blooms. We’re rich in lilacs over here, folks.

Bonus if you have a friendly chipmunk who lives deep inside this marvelous perfumed bush and scurries out to seek handouts at al fresco luncheons.I wonder if he feels as rich as I do when his home is in bloom?

“Praise the LORD! How blessed is the man who fears the LORD, who greatly delights in His commandments… Wealth and riches are in his house, and his righteousness endures forever.” (Psalm 112:1, 3)

Crocuses in the Snow

May 1, 2017May 6, 2017 ~ Beth ~ 1 Comment

It really wouldn’t have been a proper Minnesota April (or May?) without a good snowstorm, now would it have been? Besides, I needed proof that crocuses really do bloom under such circumstances. They seem no worse for the wear for it—and I don’t suppose any of the rest of us are either. But just in case you were struggling with the idea of snow and cold after so long a stretch of warm weather—or even struggling with some other frustration or trial that has nothing to do with snow—consider this admonition of how to live that these brave little flowers model well:

“Rejoicing in hope; patient in tribulation…” (Romans 12:12)

Or this one:

“In everything give thanks, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.” (1 Thessalonians 5:16)

Just a friendly reminder that “everything” really does mean every thing, and “tribulation” applies to the little things just as well as the big things. Be patient, be grateful—and enjoy the quirks of the season!

Save

In Spite of the Cosmos

September 17, 2016September 17, 2016 ~ Beth ~ 4 Comments

The theme of my flower garden this year was, officially, low cost and low maintenance. Low maintenance, because I knew I’d have less time than ever with a newborn this summer, and low cost, because why spend money on something I might not even have time to take care of?

A few days before our third daughter was born, I thinned out all the baby cosmos plants that had self-seeded from the year before. Then I filled in the holes with miscellaneous flower seeds leftover from previous years. And then I abandoned it to grow, hoping the emerging seedlings would somehow trump the inevitable emerging weeds without any help from me, and that when I came out of the fog that is life for the first month or so after a baby is born, there would be a garden full of flowers. It’s not exactly my recommended method of flower gardening, but I figured it still might be better than nothing.

A month or so later, when I remembered again that I had a flower garden and went to see what had become of it, I was surprised to find that the flowers had actually triumphed over the weeds.

The only problem was—the conqueror had been the cosmos, and the weeds were not the only victims to languish in it’s shadow. I looked in vain for the calendula, foxgloves and cone flowers, and finally located a few pale lupines. Deep beneath the jungle of feathery giants, were some sickly zinnia plants.

Oops.

Obviously I had not thinned the volunteer cosmos quite as well as I should have. So much for my idea of a mixed flower garden. Sigh.

Well, anyway, I was just happy to still have some flowers growing on a year I didn’t have much time to invest in caring for them.

Then, one day in August I glanced out my kitchen window and noticed something glowing brilliantly coral in the midst of all the pink. I hadn’t planted any coral colored cosmos. I don’t think there’s even such a thing. I went out straightaway to investigate.That’s when I discovered that the pale zinnias I had dismissed as failures hadn’t languished in the shadow of the cosmos after all, but had pushed through sturdily and bloomed. And they weren’t even stunted. They were magnificent!And so, the moral of the story is:

When it feels like the entire cosmos, er, universe is against you, don’t shrivel up and languish like a calendula. Don’t wither away like a halfhearted cone flower or foxglove. Be a zinnia. Dig your roots in deep into Christ, push your way through the overwhelming obstacles, and grow.

It’s a beautiful thing.

“Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or distress or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written: “For Your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.” No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.” (Romans 8:35-37)

Save

In Celebration of Pink

June 24, 2016June 24, 2016 ~ Beth ~ 2 Comments

Some of the prettiest pink things God ever made happen in the month of June.

It’s the month of glorious pink roses billowing in the ditches… wild rose / rejoicing hills And pink begonias blooming on my porch…

And pink peonies bowing their full ruffled heads gracefully to the ground…And foggy pink sunsets on summer solstice……and my personal favorite this year? The pink toes of a certain wee baby girl.

“Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.” (James 1:17)

Save

Pasque Flower

May 3, 2016 ~ Beth ~ 4 Comments

One of the earliest, loveliest flowers of spring is the pasque flower. While it doesn’t appear naturally up here in the northwoods, you have only to drive west to the prairies to find it growing wild and free in its native habitat. It’s also known as ‘wild crocus’—but I have to say I prefer it’s French name. I like the appropriate sophistication it lends to such a lovely bloom—but even more, I appreciate a deeper significance to the name that is likely lost on most people.

And what’s the significance? ‘Pasque’ is a word derived directly from the word ‘Passover’, making its name, literally, ‘Passover flower’—and at least this year, it seems to be quite appropriately named. On the very weekend I knelt on the brick walkway of my parent’s flower garden to photograph its first blooms, the actual Jewish celebration of Passover was in full swing (April 22nd-30th).

For the Jews, it’s a celebration to commemorate the night of the tenth plague in Egypt, some 4,000 years ago, when the angel of death passed over their homes, sparing their first-born children at the sight of the blood of an unblemished lamb painted on their doorposts.

For me, it’s a celebration that reminds me that Death has passed over me, also, having seen that I, too, am covered by the blood of the unblemished Lamb of God.

“…and when I see the blood I will pass over you, and no plague will befall you to destroy you when I strike the land of Egypt.” (Exodus 12:13)

“…you were not redeemed with perishable things like silver or gold from your futile way of life inherited from your forefathers, but with precious blood, as of a lamb unblemished and spotless, the blood of Christ.” (1 Peter 1:18-19)

“For Christ, our Passover lamb, has been sacrificed. Let us therefore celebrate the festival…“ (1 Corinthians 5:7-8)Dare I say that the celebration of Passover holds even more significance for me as a Christian than for any Jew? Hallelujah!

Narcissus

April 2, 2016April 6, 2016 ~ Beth ~ 1 Comment

Whenever I watch green shoots rise from dry, brown bulbs buried in the earth and burst into triumphant bloom, it’s hard not to see a picture of the Resurrection.

It was no exception when I planted a pot of narcissus bulbs at the end of February, looking forward to a little jump start on spring while the tulips still waited under the snow outside. I took photos as they grew, hopeful green rising to the sun, and then blossoming fragrant white in the center of the table in our sun porch. This would be the perfect set of photos for Easter, I thought, and had every intention of posting them on here in time for the holiday.

But then, in the midst of all the hustle and bustle of early-morning church breakfasts and services and a house full of feasting and family for a whole day, I never even touched the computer. The fact that I had missed my intended holiday posting date didn’t occur to me until the next morning—and then it was too late.At first I was disappointed. But then, as I sat in the sun porch the next morning, watching a wet and pearly gray dawn wash over the dining room table still wearing it’s candles and best white tablecloth from Sunday’s celebration, I suddenly realized that it was okay after all. Maybe, even, it was for the best.

Because while Easter Sunday is full of celebration, and multiple reminders at every turn to rejoice, this ordinary gray day with the raindrops making dents on the mud puddles in the brown yard and the pile of dirty dishes staring at me from the sink was decidedly lacking in reminders. There were no happy church breakfasts, with the men in aprons flipping pancakes in the kitchen and the ladies dressed in bright spring pastels sitting around tables set with jars of fresh-cut pussy willows. There were no jubilant strains of “Up From the Grave He Arose” soaring to the church rafters while the white lilies nod in front of the pulpit. The quantities of ham and cheesy potatoes that got served to a houseful of family had been consumed and we were back to oatmeal for breakfast. How quickly the spirit of celebration had faded away into everyday humdrum!

But as another favorite Easter song goes: “Because He lives, I can face tomorrow…and life is worth the living, just because He lives.” Though practically we can’t spend every day of the year dressed up in our best clothes, sitting around white-clothed tables laden with pots of yellow tulips and two whole mocha brownie tortes served on best china, I think it goes without saying that, deep down in our hearts, this spirit of joy and celebration should carry on into every day of the upcoming year. Because if it wasn’t for Easter, everyday life literally would not be worth the living.And so, I’m here to wish you a Happy Easter with my flower photos after all, with no apologies for the fact that it’s a whole week late. Or, more correctly, to declare, as many pastors did last Sunday around the world, “He is risen!” Because it’s still as true today as it was that day and every other day of the year.

And may you be reminded, on this ordinary day of the week, to echo back with assurance:

“He is risen indeed!”

“Now I would remind you, brothers, of the gospel I preached to you, which you received, in which you stand and by which you are being saved, if you hold fast to the word I preached to you…that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the Scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the Scriptures…” (1 Corinthians 15:1-4)

Winter Flowers

January 26, 2016April 6, 2016 ~ Beth ~ 2 Comments

I’ve read the articles on the science of forcing your Christmas cactus to bloom in time for Christmas. A simple schedule of watering and then purposely neglecting to do so within certain time frames will, they tell me, insure that it buds right on time. I’ve considered doing this (hence the fact that I was reading the articles in the first place), but since making sure my houseplants actually get watered at all seems to be enough of a challenge at this point in my life, I’ve never quite gotten around to it.

All that to say that I can take absolutely no credit for the fact that my Christmas cactus has always bloomed on time for the three years its been in my care. This year was no exception, and happily, the blooms have lasted well into January, which is why you’re seeing them now.

They’re a welcome bright spot in our living room, especially now that the Christmas tree has (finally) been hauled out to the fire pit leaving the room feeling spacious again but rather blank. Each of those exotic blooms, meant to thrive in some much warmer climate, amazes me as it opens up to the winter sun slanting sparingly through the south-facing windows. Outside, the wind is whistling fiercely around the house and the skies have been nothing but one endless blank canvas of overcast gray lately—but then there they are, smiling at me across the room in all their pink and fuchsia glory, slender buds suddenly bursting forth with news of joy and color and life. There’s something about tropical flowers growing right in the dead of winter that bring refreshment to my soul in a way that my summer garden flowers don’t. They make me think of this verse in Proverbs:

“Like cold water to a thirsty soul, so is good news from a far country.” (Proverbs 25:25)

Even if the good news is only that not all flowers must wait until spring to bloom. May they refresh your soul today, too!

Ten Things To Do When Swamped With Cucumbers

September 8, 2015April 6, 2016 ~ Beth ~ 2 Comments

At this time of the year when I walk outside, the call of the fields and forest gets somewhat dimmed by the call of the garden. Out in the woods, the ferns are curling up brown and everything is in that sort of awkward transition between summer and fall. But in the garden, at least the one I planted this year, everything is just reaching it’s most splendid peak.

And so that’s where I go, taking my camera with me to document the discoveries of dark round watermelons beneath notched leaves, big orange pumpkins and shiny purple eggplant. And the little yellow cucumber flowers, bright like little stars amidst the delicately serrated edges of leafy vines.And then I dig down beneath those leaves, and I fill the wheelbarrow with cucumbers (and zucchini—but that’s another story) and I bring them up to the house, stack them up like cord wood on the kitchen table and wonder what in the world I’m going to do with them all.Honestly, I thought I had planted just the right amount (just one hill, so we could eat them fresh), but lo and behold, I was wrong. We are drowning in cucumbers—and we still have pickles in the basement from last year! What do you do when you don’t need pickles and a daily whole fresh cucumber for lunch is getting a little old? Well…

You give thanks for the abundance. It is truly a blessing to have my cup—er, wheelbarrow—overflow with produce, even if it is a bit of a scramble to use them all up before they spoil.
You research the amazing health and home benefits of cucumbers to boost cucumber enthusiasm house-wide. Did you know that a single cucumber contains pretty much all of the vitamins your body needs for one day? Or that cucumbers are good for treating both high and low blood pressure? Or that you can use cucumbers on sunburns just like aloe vera? Or that if you rub a slice of cucumber along a squeaky hinge, it will stop squeaking? There’s a great list with more fun health benefits and uses here. I’ve always liked cucumbers and after reading this, I finally know why!
You slice them up thin and use them in lieu of lettuce in sandwiches. Or you skip the bread and stuff a hollowed out cucumber with the sandwich fillings. We tried ham and cream cheese—yum!
You put them in all tossed salads and try to keep the ratio of lettuce to cucumber somewhat reasonable, so you can still call it a lettuce salad, because…
You also make cucumber salad, which is different. This version with tomatoes, avocado and feta cheese is my new favorite this year!
You make gyros with cucumber sauce. (This probably qualifies as my top favorite way to dispose of cucumbers.)
You make cucumber-and-cream-cheese tea sandwiches (and cucumber-tomato-mayonnaise sandwiches if your tomatoes are ripe, which mine are not). Only skip the tiny tea size and make them big.
You try every new and interesting recipe you can find. Nice to meet you, cucumber soup and cucumber chips.
You bless all your friends by smuggling them into the back seats of their cars as surprise gifts. (Just kidding—actually bringing a pile them to church with a “help yourself” sign attached might be a better idea!)
And if all else fails, you make a cake.

Because naturally a cucumber cake probably would be the last thing you think of. But no, I’m really not kidding on this one. There really is such a thing—and it’s delicious! (If you’re adventurous enough to try it, too, the recipe I used is here. I doubled the recipe—because, hello, we’re trying to use up cucumbers over here!—but stuck with a single batch of the frosting and used lemon juice instead of the elderberry cordial.)

“He has shown kindness by giving you rain from heaven and crops in their seasons; he provides you with plenty of food and fills your hearts with joy.” (Acts 14:17)

What are your favorite ways to enjoy the blessing of cucumbers?

Foreign Soil

July 15, 2015October 16, 2021 ~ Beth ~ 2 Comments

Recently we took a short weekend trip to our neighboring country to the north, and it got me thinking about being a foreigner.

Granted, driving across the border into Canada doesn’t involve a lot of culture shock. They dress the same way as we do. They drive cars and have ordinary looking houses. They speak English. In some ways it feels very much like home.

But then you’re driving down the road and you start getting a headache from repeatedly having to convert kilometers to miles. You keep gasping at how much things cost, and having to remind yourself that it won’t be nearly so bad once you apply the exchange rate. There are maple leaves on the flags fluttering in people’s yards instead of stars and stripes. You hear about people eating their french fries with gravy and cheese curds, and calling diapers napkins. My husband even claims the walleye taste different up there. And they won’t let you take eggs across the border, no sir. Even if they’re beautiful big brown and green eggs from the farm down the road. (I learned that lesson the hard way.)

And so, in the midst of many similarities, the feel of the foreign seeps unmistakably through.We really had a great time while we were there, even if we did have to eat Canadian eggs. It was the kind of weekend where your favorite memories are things like waking up to the fragrance of coffee perking and grandma pulling fresh orange rolls out of the oven, sitting with your feet up reading good books in the fishing boat between bites, and the feel of sun-baked lichened rocks on bare feet. We spent mornings drinking coffee on the deck, hot and humid afternoons soaking in the lake, and cooler evenings around a roaring fire. We fed the seagulls, made barbecued ribs and ate fresh bread from the resort bakery next door. It was wonderful!

Yet for all the wonderful memories we made, we still got excited when we drove back to the border at the end of our visit and spotted a familiar red, white and blue flag fluttering proudly above the brick buildings at the crossing. The line was long, and we slowly inched our way across the river, suspended between two countries on a bridge of steel. A sort of happy, content feeling prevailed. That was home over there and there were no doubts about whether they’d let us through or not, because we were citizens!

We still had to prove it, of course. We had to hand over our US passports and birth certificates, and they had to examine them with care, comparing the photos on each one to the corresponding face in our vehicle. They looked in our coolers, too, and took all of our leftover red and yellow peppers in case they were carrying some kind of bug that might infest American pepper crops. (Or something like that.)

But after all that, we drove on through the gate, and suddenly we went from being foreigners to being citizens with rights and privileges. The speed limit signs made sense again. Things cost exactly what they said they did. They served us ketchup with our fries when we stopped for supper. Everything felt somehow right and familiar again.I like to think that’s how heaven is going to feel someday. We’ll cross that great divide between this life and the next, and suddenly everything will feel right and familiar in a way it never did here on earth. We will be home, and it will be a lot more than just a happy, content sort of feeling—it will be glorious. I don’t know about you, but no amount of enjoyment I feel in this life can take away from the excitement I feel when I anticipate that border crossing!

“For our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ.” (Philippians 3:20)

Are you a citizen, too? I hope I see you there!