Weeding: Good for the Garden and the Soul

Weeds have overtaken our planting beds. Just a few weeks ago, our landscaper had 3 guys come out and remove the weeds from all of the beds. But they came back – and fast!

Since I couldn’t think of a single excuse as to why I couldn’t tackle the problem myself this time (and believe me, I tried), I spent several hours pulling weeds last week. It’s a pretty meditative activity; it doesn’t involve any real brain power. So I had time to think.

In order to completely remove a weed so it will never return, you have to pull out all of the roots. We all know it; it’s just not something we look forward to doing. It takes patience and gentleness and ruthlessness. You have to take the weeds one at a time, and gently and slowly pull out the weed, removing the entire plant roots and all. Don’t pull too quickly, or you don’t get the whole thing. Then you have to discard it where those sneaky little roots can’t once again take hold in your yard. If you just toss it back in the bed or onto the lawn, it might find new life and become a problem again.

It occurred to me that negative things in our lives are like that. Bad habits, weaknesses, sins, etc., are like weeds in our souls; if we don’t remove them completely, they will grow back. If we aren’t diligent to keep them under control, they can take over to such an extent that it seems impossible to remove them.

We can be impatient and yank them up or spray them in a hurry. That will remove the visible parts and make the yard look better for a few days. But very soon, the same weeds will just be right back in the same places. No real progress is made, just a temporary cleanup to keep up with the neighbors.

Likewise, we can clean up our personal acts temporarily. If we have a bad habit or sin we don’t want people to know about, we can hide it, sometimes even convincing ourselves. We can remove all evidence so that no one even knows it’s there. For a while.

Eventually, either that issue or something else will pop up in its place. We have to find the root and patiently and gently, but ruthlessly, pull it all out. We have to search our hearts to find out why they are such nice places for those “weeds” to grow. It’s an individual thing.

For me, weed removal and prevention only come with Bible study, prayer, and close friendships with other like-minded people. Scripture is God’s recorded word. It is what most often reveals His truth to me. Through prayer, I can have a relationship with Him. I can praise, complain, rant, plead, confess, wonder, ask, thank, demand and share. Probably more importantly, I can listen. Through scripture and prayer, God’s Holy Spirit can impress His truth on my soul. Really. God chooses to speak to me if I am willing to listen. His Spirit is eager to point out those weeds! And without the blessing of fellow believers, I would feel alone in the struggle.

I wish weed control were a one-time (or even an annual!) thing. But it’s not. It’s a never-ending task requiring diligence and discipline. It calls for patient ruthlessness.

Lord, thank You for choosing to have a relationship with me. Thank you for giving me absolute truth in this relative world. Thank You for giving me love and asking me to share it with those around me. Thank You for pointing out my “weeds” and for giving me the tools to remove them. Thank You.

25th Anniversary Trip: 5 Days Out

Sunday, September 21

We leave in 5 days. I'm so excited! I'm also trying not to be too excited and not to imagine the trip too much, in case we can't go or have to come home early.

It's crazy. It's like I believe I can make it happen or jinx it, just in how I think. As a kid, I used to hope that Jesus wouldn't come back before I got to ... fill in the blank. It was usually something like going to Disney World the next week. I was old enough to feel guilty and to know how ridiculous that was, but I still hoped to get to Disney. Have I grown so little?

Really? Just how important is this trip in the greater scheme of things? Answer: not very.

And yet, I'm doing everything I can to make it happen. I'm giving my family all the important contact information in case they need to reach us. We bought special trip insurance in case we have to cancel or come home early. I'm making lists at work and trying to make sure no one even notices I'm gone. I'm making lists at home to take everything we might need, pay the bills, feed the birds, water the plants, and try to ensure my mother-in-law doesn't worry herself into the hospital and serious, life-threatening illness.

Is this responsible planning, or obsessive, controlling behavior? It really comes down to my heart and motives. Ugh.

And that's the rub. In this thing, it IS all about me. I know that these things don't determine whether or not we go on our trip. Pretty much all we do now is show up on time at the airport with our passports. Everything else can be finessed.

I can pray that we get to go. I can pray that none of my family or friends gets sick, has surgery, goes to prison, goes missing, or dies. I can pray that my house doesn't burn down. I can pray that ISIS doesn't suddenly attack Paris...or Smyrna.

But what matters, for the Kingdom, in the long run, is what I'm doing every day to glorify God and bring others to Him. This life is a blink of the eye compared to an eternity in the presence of Jesus. If the movie of my life is shown on Judgement day, will I be more often embarrassed or content? At this moment I think the balance is much more on the side of embarrassed. I care way too much about what other people think, my comfort, my pleasure, ease, and experience, and way too little about the eternal perspective.

Lord, I am so grateful for the blessings that make this trip possible. Please help me to see things from Your eyes. Put people in my path that need to hear about You. Give  me the eyes, ears, and heart to hear them and to respond to their needs. I really want to take this trip, but I need to want to serve You more.

Sunlight or Makeup Mirror?

Yesterday morning, the power was out when it was time to get ready for work. Ugh!  Fortunately, we had hot water for a shower, but there wasn’t enough light at the bathroom mirror for me to put on my makeup in the usual spot.

I ended up sitting on the kitchen floor in front of the French doors onto the deck.  As I was applying foundation with one hand and holding a mirror with the other, I remembered the lighted makeup mirror I used in my college dorm room. The morning light coming through the doors reminded me of the “Daylight” setting on that old mirror.  I also remembered that my dorm room had windows on three sides. Why hadn’t I used the natural light from the windows all those years ago rather than the simulated light of the makeup mirror?

Remember these?

Well first of all, there’s convenience. As I was reminded this morning, my task would have been easier with two hands and a stationary mirror.  And with my focus fixed on a makeup mirror, there would have been fewer things to distract me from getting the job done.  Then, there’s the little matter of actual sunlight showing more imperfections than I really want to face first thing in the morning!

Of course the point of this entry is not to make you feel sorry for me (or my coworkers) that my power was out for 3 hours and I had to go to work without washing my hair since I couldn’t use the hair dryer.

While I was getting ready I was thinking about how the sunlight, created by God, is infinitely superior to anything we can create to emulate it.

It’s so much more convenient for me to compare myself to other people than to compare myself to the standard God set and Jesus exemplified for me.  A lot of the time I look pretty good compared to my fellow humans.  I don’t murder or steal or kidnap people. I don’t shoot random individuals in a mall or theater.  I try to be nice to people, to help them, to occasionally make a donation.  I know there are those who are better at it than I am, but I can generally avoid comparing myself to them.

What is not so convenient is holding myself up to the light of scripture.  I don’t compare so favorably to the Biblical requirements to “pray without ceasing,” “be kind to one another,” “judge not,” “give thanks in everything,” “love my enemies,” “be slow to anger,” “take up my cross,” “turn the other cheek,” and countless other exhortations I know but choose to ignore, soften, or re-interpret.

Also, as I was putting on makeup overlooking the deck, I kept seeing the birds at the feeders.  In my bathroom, with the large window etched (for obvious reasons), I can’t see what’s going on outside. I can complete my morning tasks with minimal distractions from the outside world.  I can focus on my agenda, my plans, my little world, and ignore the activities, dreams and tragedies going on around me.  Don’t get me wrong.  I try to be a good wife, friend, daughter, sister, aunt, church member, and coworker.  I just prefer, in general, to pass over the extremes and things that require too much of me, things that are distractions to the plans I have made for the day, for my life.

This God-created light tends to show me for who I really am.  It reminds me that God sees me, sees my heart, sees the truth.  He knows what He created me for, who He created me to be. 

Sometimes I can fool those around me into thinking I have it all together.  I can say the right words, do the right things, look organized, listen sympathetically. 

But God’s light sees my heart. If I do all the right things for selfish reasons, they don’t benefit me in eternity.  God doesn’t count what I do in my own strength as righteousness.  He counts my faith in Christ as righteousness.  And that faith, and my knowledge of the unbelievable grace and mercy He has shown me in spite of my incredible shortcomings, should motivate me to obey Him and to forgive others.  He’d rather have my obedience than my self-determined good deeds.  That’s what is meant by, “to obey is better than sacrifice.”

I want to be better about choosing to look at myself by God’s light rather than by light man created. Oftentimes God’s light is not very flattering; it shows my selfishness, fears, and flaws.  But it’s also the only source of truth here on earth.  It holds all the answers to the questions I have.  It holds everything I need. 

Aunt Shirley and the Dees Women

Last weekend, my mom and I joined two of my aunts (Peggy and Patt) and a cousin (Susie) to spend a day cleaning my Aunt Shirley's house. As a child, I never imagined my feisty, sharp-tongued, hardworking aunt would ever need my help.

Here she is about three years ago along with my Uncle Bully.  (Yep, that's his name, and well-deserved!)

Now she suffers from a form of dementia. She has a lost look in her eyes. When my Mom told her I was along for the day, she asked me who I belonged to, though I spent many weeks at her home through the years. (The "who do you belong to" question is a common one among us cousins, but I've never been asked that by an aunt or uncle.)

But that's recent history.

Way, way, back, in rural south Georgia, there was a young woman who was one child of ten. She grew up in various places, mostly in and near Worth County. Her father was a sharecropper, and later worked on dairy farms.

There were lots of kids at home and not much - if any - money. But they always had clothes to wear and food to eat. My mom says she never felt deprived since they were like most everyone else around them. They were taught (mostly by example...and switches they selected themselves)...to fear God, work hard, and take care of family.

Aunt Shirley is the one on the back row, second from the left. Aunt Peggy is in the front on the left. My mom is in the front, far right. If you know my family, you'll see how much my niece looks like my mom here. (I love that about family: the resemblances pop up everywhere!)

I love this picture. I love that my older aunts (married, with kids of their own by then) are dressed as if for church, and my uncles look a little more casual, including the baby, Uncle Robert. All of them are fun, friendly people, which does NOT show up here. I guess having your picture taken was serious business in 1953!

Later, apparently bouffant hairdos were all the rage.

My Grandma Dees is seated, and from left to right are Mom, Aunt Shirley, Aunt Margaret, and Aunt Peggy.  I'm going to guess this is the late 60's since my Mom looked like this when I was born. I don't actually remember it, of course....I've seen pictures. ;-)

These women have had a lot of influence on my life and who I am today. A LOT!  Among a million other things....Grandma taught me to show hospitality and love through food; Mom taught me to value family; Aunt Shirley taught me to work hard; Aunt Margaret taught me to sacrifice for family; Aunt Peggy taught me the value of having someone who will always think you're perfect just the way you are.


That was the 50s and 60s. Here they are in the late 90s!

In the background is Aunt Shirley's house. I've always loved it.  It's sad to see it in disrepair now. I used to imagine how I would live in it someday.

That, of course, was before I realized that I'm not the fixer-upper type. Well, and that pesky little detail of actual ownership....

OK, one more picture. Here are Aunt Patt (a voluntary Dees by virtue of marrying my Uncle Wallace), Aunt Shirley, and my cousin Susie. This is at a baby shower for my sister. Since Grayson is almost 12 now, you can do the math.

It was Susie's idea for us to get together at Aunt Shirley's last weekend. She's a super hardworking wife and mom who has, by necessity, learned patience through life's challenges. And the woman is a cleaning machine! 

Many summers, my sister and I spent a week at Aunt Shirley's house. We helped pick vegetables from the huge garden (while whining), clean the house (while whining), hang laundry out on the line (while whining), shell peas (at least we got to sit down), and shuck corn (you guessed it - while whining). OK, before you judge, let me tell you there was no air conditioning in the house, and when you shuck fresh corn outside, the silks stick all over your sweaty self and there are WORMS!

A couple of those years, Susie came too. (I think she now goes by Susan, but she's still Susie to me!) Those were the special years, when we had someone else to help come up with new things to do. And as it turns out, when three little girls whine about shucking an entire truck bed full of corn, something magical happens and your uncle tells you to JUST GO AWAY! And, because you are little girls, you DO! And without one bit of guilt.

Anyway, although last Saturday at Aunt Shirley's was hard, it was also wonderful. I spent a whole day with some of my extended family. We worked together, laughed together, were sad together.  We shared a few meaningful glances and found that it's still hard to get much past Aunt Shirley. We remembered our times together, and worried about the future together. And that's the key; we were together. 

These days, when we are so busy just getting from one day to the next, we don't always take time to just be together. Cleaning and organizing is physical work, but we are quite capable of talking and catching up at the same time. And somehow, even if we aren't talking about deep, personal issues, we're still bonding. My Aunt Shirley didn't always know who I was throughout the day. But she knew that I was family. And that she is loved. 

Maybe that's the secret of Aunt Shirley and the Dees women. They aren't touchy-feely. They might not sit around and share their deepest thoughts, fears, and triumphs. They probably won't ask you, "How do you feel about that?" when you mention your latest struggle. But they will pray for you. They will come alongside you and will often offer practical help. Just know, if they offer advice, it's likely to be of the "buck up" variety. 

I'm glad I went to Aunt Shirley's last weekend. I hope I remember its lessons.

Choose Your Companions

"Choose your companions before you choose your road."   
Mark Burnett

I heard this quote last week and it immediately resonated with me.

Now, as a believer I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to choose my road first. You know, the straight and narrow. But well, I guess I did choose Jesus first, so maybe it works after all.

Anyway, I have some great traveling companions in this life: husband, family, friends, coworkers. They make all the difference.

First came the family. I had two hardworking, loving Christian parents who only wanted the best for us. I have a sister I love and with whom I played house, school, Barbies, Lite Brites, and Monopoly. She's added a great husband and two amazing kids to the family. My mom has even recently added to our number by marrying into the Knowles clan, which is full of fun, friendly people. Not to mention the nearly innumerable aunts, uncles and cousins we already had!

Of course, I didn't choose them; I'm just blessed to have them.

I did choose my husband. Or maybe he chose me. Whichever it was, it's worked out pretty well! He loves and supports me, works hard, and is lots of fun. He knows the worst and loves me anyway. I am a better person today than I would be without him.

I've had some great friends all along the way, from childhood to now. They have encouraged me to good behavior and embarrassed me out of bad. They have told me the truth, and laughed and cried with me. A big part of who I am today has been influenced by my friends.

I even get to work with great people, many of whom are also my friends. How often does that happen?

Back to the quote. It means that who you're with is even more important than where you're going. Again, I'm not completely sure it holds up if you take it literally, but I love the sentiment. The people with whom we choose to spend our time influence us greatly. They can encourage or discourage, support or undermine, energize or drain, build up or tear down, exhort or criticize, love or hate. It's important that we choose our companions wisely.

But, you know? It's also important that we are good companions. Could those around me say that I make them a better person just by knowing me? Do I bring out the best in them? Do I "rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep?" (Rom. 12:15) Do I consider others more important than myself? (Phil. 2:3) Do I act with kindness and forgiveness? (Eph. 4:32) If I'm honest, I have to say not often enough.

How about you?

DIY Terra Cotta Servers

I like crafts. Unfortunately, mine can often be mistaken for 3rd grade vacation Bible school projects. So, it was really brave (or delusional) of me to plan to use homemade projects as serving pieces at a shower we gave recently.

I was watching "The Chew" and saw them making serving pieces of terra cotta pots. Here's the link to the segment:

http://abc.go.com/shows/the-chew/blogs/Craft-Corner/Clinton-Kelly-Entertain-With-Style-Summer-Decor

I made a few minor changes in mine. Theirs had the pots turned right-side-up, but I thought they would be more stable with the widest part of the pot down. Also, I tried to make the pots as small as possible compared to the saucers so I would maximize serving space, but still maintain stability.

I went to Home Depot and Pike Nursery and bought saucers and pots. No one seemed to mind as I used a space on the shelf to try out pieces for my servers. I mixed and matched pots and saucers until I had what I wanted. I got materials for one three-tier server with each tier smaller than the one below, one two-tier server with saucers of the same size, and one plain saucer to use as a tray.

I washed all of the saucers and pots with soapy water and let them dry for a day.

Next, I realized I wanted to seal the terra cotta so it wouldn't stain with moisture, and also to produce a consistent color.

I got a spray can of terra cotta sealer at Michael's. An employee said the sealer was food safe, but the can didn't mention it at all. I decided I would line the servers with cloth napkins, parchment, or saran wrap just in case.

When it came time to seal the pieces, I started to spread paper on the garage floor. Then I thought, "Why should I be uncomfortable in my crafting?" I set one cardboard box on top of another in my basement utility room. The room is not quite climate controlled, but it's close enough and there was no breeze to blow the spray around!

I used two coats of the sealer.

Once the sealer was no longer tacky (within one hour), I assembled the servers.

I plugged in my new mini glue gun so it could begin heating up.

A glue gun is pretty important in the crafting world!

This one worked fine but leaked a little. Yeah for paper towels!

My impatience sometimes works against me, as it did in this instance. I didn't take the time to mark the center of the saucers so I could center the pots inside them. I decided to just eyeball it.

(Hmmm, could this have something to do with the often childlike quality of my crafts?)





I started with the two-tier server. I set out the bottom saucer, then added hot glue to the rim of the pot that would sit on top.

Working quickly, I set the pot  in the center of the saucer and pressed. The glue dries really fast, so hurry!

Then I added glue to the other end of the pot.

I quickly placed the other saucer on top to form the top tier and pressed firmly.



This one turned out fairly even and centered. 

Next, I used the same method for the three-tier server. I had three different sizes of saucers and two sizes of pots. This one did NOT turn out quite so centered, so we had to place it strategically on the table so as not to call attention to its wonkiness.  

Mark the center of your saucers (on the top and bottom as appropriate) if you do this! I think the drainage holes in the pots would make it fairly simple to line up by eye.

Anyway, here's the three-tier one on its good side!

Obviously nothing more than glaze was needed for the serving tray.

A few things I learned and am passing along to you:

1)     As already stated, mark the center point on your saucers. To be really accurate, you could run a small dowel (or chopstick) through the drainage hole of the pot to help line up the hole with the center mark.

2)      After the shower, I was loading the larger server into the car and the top two tiers fell off of the base. Nothing was harmed, but I realized that for longevity, I should have used an adhesive made especially for ceramics.

3)     If possible, pass up pots that have stickers on them. One of my pots had a sticker-shaped mark left on it even after it was washed and sealed. I used it anyway. (Once again, childlike quality.....)

Anyway, overall I was very happy with how they turned out and how easy they were to do. I highly recommend this project.


Here's a picture of the table at the shower.


Go forth and craft!

A Lesson From Dad

At our small group summer Bible study, we begin with dinner. Well, of course we do. We’re Southern women and several of us are Baptist, so really we have no choice in the matter!

Anyway, the conversation over dinner the other night got around to our first cars.  Most of us had similar stories. Anyone who knows me well has probably heard about my first two cars. The first one was a Volkswagon Dasher, school-bus yellow, with an enormous steering wheel because it had no power steering. I think I only had it for about a year before it made the trip to the junkyard.

My second car was a 1978 Honda. I don’t even know if it had a model name; it was about the size of a Smart Car. It had a manual transmission (with a choke, no less) and had after-market radio and air-conditioning. Sometimes the engine stopped while I was driving and I had to pop the clutch to get it started again. At one point, I had to carry gallons of water with me because the radiator leaked and it wasn’t worth repairing. I drove it for a few years before it too made its way to the junkyard.

My friend's dad was a mechanic. He wouldn’t let her ride with me in one of them (I think it was the Dasher) because he didn’t think it was safe. When I reported this to my dad in the hopes that I could guilt him into getting me a better car, he just shrugged and smiled. I even accused him of not caring about my safety: again, the shrug and the smile. So frustrating!

Now, I’ve known my entire adult life that I had those cars because that’s what my parents could afford for me to have. I probably really even knew it then. I’ve enjoyed sharing stories with friends, each trying to one-up the other with “my car was so bad….” stories.  I’ve felt sorry for those whose parents gave them new cars because they had no stories to tell; they had no cars with “character” in their pasts.

Only this week as I reflected on that dinner conversation, did I get a new revelation.

It started with me remembering how one lady said she didn’t have a car at all. Another had to share a car with her siblings. My sister and I each had our own cars so obviously we were better off than lots of people even If I didn’t appreciate it then.

Then I remembered how most of my life I’ve heard that we tend to relate to God according to our relationship with our earthly fathers. If you had a loving, caring father, it's easier for you to see God as a loving, caring God. 

Somehow (can you say, Holy Spirit?) I put the thoughts about my first cars together with the truths about earthly fathers and God. For the first time, I realized that maybe the reason that I have been able to trust God even when bad things happen, is that I trusted that my dad loved me and wanted the best for me. Even when I didn’t understand it.

I accused my dad of not caring for my safety by giving me bad cars to drive. I didn’t really believe that and he knew it. But he never felt the need to defend his decisions. He never said that’s all we could afford and I should be grateful to have a car at all. He never took away the keys and said, “you can drive this car or have none at all.”  He just shrugged and smiled, and deep down I knew, because of a million other things, that he did love me and care for my safety. I just didn’t understand it all then.

I really think that because he didn’t think I always deserved an explanation for his decisions and plans, I can now accept most things without losing trust in God. I may not understand things, or like them, or think they were the best option (after all, I usually have a plan and surely mine is the best!), but deep down, I know God loves me and wants what’s best for me. Even when I don’t understand it.

I didn’t understand when my dad was diagnosed with leukemia at 56 and died at 58. Why him and not some nasty person who would never follow God? Why don’t my niece and nephew get to know him? My dad was faithful and good and steady. I have a vivid memory of walking with him through the hospital during one of his lengthy stays. He was bald due to chemo, wearing a hospital gown, and wheeling an IV pole. He stopped to talk to a woman who was crying outside one of the rooms, asked her if he could help, and prayed with her. How could God take this man and not someone else?

I didn’t understand why it had to happen, but I never really lost trust in God. I knew deep down that His ways are higher, that He loved me and wanted what’s best for me.

It's pretty cool that I can still learn from him, even though he's been gone for over ten years. Thank you, Dad.