Come sit a spell...

Taking five minutes to wave from the banks of Pollywog Creek...

Last week was a blur...

Filled to the brim with an abundance of all things good...

And an armload of challenges that has kept me on my knees...

I promise I'll be back soon. In the meantime, feel free to sit a spell (there's a bench swing in the backyard) and wander through the archives.

Photos: A Sunday on Pollywog Creek

In truth we are guilty...

Then they said to one another, “In truth we are guilty concerning our brother, in that we saw the distress of his soul, when he begged us and we did not listen. That is why this distress has come upon us.” ~ Genesis 42:21

I'd long ago released the bitterness I embraced in a season of betrayals and hurts our family experienced years ago. I'd tell you, with all sincerity, that I'd forgiven those involved and moved on - that I had put those hurts far from my thoughts, and rarely, if ever, considered them - and it would all be true. What I failed to see was my own guilt - harboring bitterness for even a moment, keeping those that hurt us at arm's length, and letting far too many years pass without pursuing reconciliation in the relationships that had been damaged.

It's not as though I went out of my way to avoid these relationships. Most of them were with people whose paths I almost never crossed. We weren't friends in the sense that we talked on the phone or met for coffee. We weren't on each other's Christmas card lists. I distanced myself in other ways - slowly pulling away from involvement in activities that might bring us together. We were the victims, after all. The apology ball was in their court, or so I thought.

On a recent Sunday drive to church, I stopped writing for a moment to listen to the articulate, soft-spoken voice on the radio. The nationally broadcast program was momentarily discussing a topic of personal interest. When the announcer identified the person whose voice had caught my attention as one of those people I'd allowed time and distance to separate me from, I immediately thought, I need to mend that fence.

I had read Chris Brauns' Unpacking Forgiveness: Biblical Answers for Complex Questions and Deep Wounds almost two years ago and had worked through it chapter by chapter with our small group. I knew that reconciliation was the final step in achieving biblical forgiveness, but I obviously failed to connect the dots and remember the estranged relationships that resulted from that hurtful season years ago.

It's no excuse, but I'll be the first to admit it - I don't have the fastest learning curve, and I dare not trust my memory. By the time we turned off the highway and into the church parking lot, I'd already put "mending fences" out of my thoughts. 

I'd be tempted to despair of these weaknesses of mine, if I didn't believe that God fashioned me the way I am. He knows that I am but dust and understands all my infirmities and inadequacies. More importantly, it's God's desire to use my weaknesses to display His strength and magnify His grace, and that was what He was about to do. 


In church that morning, a visiting pastor spoke on reconciliation. With Genesis 42 as his text, he made several excellent points in his message, but the one that stuck to me was this...

God had jogged their memory: "Surely we are guilty," the brothers confessed. 

I didn't need to be guilty of the sins of Joseph's brothers to understand that God knew all along what I would hear on the radio and in church that morning, and He had jogged my memory, just as He had done Joseph's brothers. What I heard the pastor say was, Surely, you are guilty, too, Patricia - go and mend that fence.    

On the drive home from church, I looked over the message notes I'd taken that morning. We are nothing without God, but for grace. Put pride aside and be an expression of that grace. 


In Unpacking Forgiveness, Brauns explained the mistake I made initially in the way I had responded to those hurts... 

If forgiveness were something that happened only within a person, then Matthew 18:15-20 would not be necessary. Believers could work through forgiveness privately. But Jesus taught that forgiveness is something that happens between two parties. Forgiveness is a figurative handshake. You cannot shake hands alone. For forgiveness to happen, you need to seek out the offending party (or the offended party if you are the offender), extend your hand, and pray that the other party will offer his or hers to you.

Brauns continued to say that many of us will respond to hurts and conflicts in one of two dysfunctional ways:  blow up completely and have a shouting match with the offender or avoid it entirely. I'd obviously chosen the latter. In explaining the consequences of that choice, Brauns wrote...

Once the lines have been drawn, the two parties simply keep their distance.  At the same time they’re avoiding one another, they may be talking and involving all kinds of other people unnecessarily....In most cases, the initial conflict blew over and is forgotten, but it was never dealt with biblically or satisfactorily. There was no ownership of nor true repentance for mistakes made. There was no true forgiveness.

Wish I had been paying closer attention to Brauns the first time, I would have been years closer to reconciliation. I did "go and mend that fence", and God blessed that response in unexpected ways, but I can't forget that there are other relationships that need tending from that hurtful season of years ago.

What about you? Is God, even now, jogging your memory, too? Is there possibly an offense you long ago buried that needs a biblical response toward reconciliation? 

Photos: morning light on Pollywog Creek (I never tire of those pond reflections), the beautyberry berries in all their fall glory (you'll see them often on Pollywog Creek), and a clinging vine on a mended fence. 

Full Circle...

At the heart of frugality is contentment, don't you think?

And generosity, as well. The more I save, the more I have to give away.

The more I have to give away, the greater my joy.

The greater my joy, the more my heart swells with gratitude and I'm back to a greater contentment with the abundant grace and blessings of God. 

So, if contentment with generosity brings joy and gratitude and ultimately greater contentment, it seems to me that I deprive myself - not by living frugally - but when I avoid faces and stories, and offer numerous lame reasons why I can't respond.    

On the subject of photography and not having a real camera...

In a comment to the lovely Jeanne at The View From Here I wrote....

I’m sure you’ve noticed that most of my photos are macros with a shallow depth of field. I had a talk with the Lord about this earlier this week. “You know, Lord, I could do so much more with my photography if I had a real camera.” To which He immediately responded, “Which is why I’m not giving you one.” He knows me. He knows I’d spend all my time taking photos of everything, when what He has asked me to do is find Him in the small things…the wee beauty in the midst of the not-so-beautiful right under my feet. Besides…much to my family's dismay, the little Sony Cyber-shot fits in my purse.

What about you?

Is there something you think you need that maybe God is withholding from you -  so that you would not be distracted but accomplish His purposes instead?

Photos: Around Pollywog Creek - an anhinga (snake bird) that I chased around the pond (he was not at all happy with me and my camera - or maybe it was just me)

Because He is good...

“Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding….”

I stepped way out of my comfort zone when I accepted the invitation to speak. Although I was an effective administrator and a confident head nurse, I was an inexperienced public speaker and had momentarily forgotten that I was also terrified of the spotlight.

The day long seminar on renal failure was designed for university students and professional nurses and included speakers from various health care disciplines. Each of us was assigned approximately one hour to cover our area of expertise and allow for a short time for questions from the audience.

At first, I was honored to have been asked to speak. Having trained several small groups of nurses and technicians, I was comfortable with the material and didn’t think teaching a large audience would be too challenging. But as the seminar date approached I began to panic. Frantically, I offered up a series of “Lord, save me from this and I’ll do anything for you forever” pleas for mercy, and secretly hoped for a case of laryngitis or the flu – anything that would excuse me from the commitment.

   

New in my walk with Christ, I had yet to learn the discipline of acknowledging the Lord “in all my ways.” I’d been “wise in (my) own eyes” and accepted the invitation to speak without seeking wisdom. Meeting me where I was in those early baby-step days, the Lord lovingly offered me grace in abundance. “I’ll give you every penny of the honorarium, Lord, if you’ll just get me through this,” was my final plea, and that’s exactly how it happened. My knees may have knocked a little as I stood behind the podium, but I was relaxed and self-assured in my presentation that day. I couldn’t get my speaker's fee in the offering plate at church fast enough.

Over thirty years later, the Lord rightfully expects more from me. He’s more inclined to let me fall on my face when I step out in my own foolish wisdom and feeble strength and make plans and commitments outside His counsel – not because He’s unkind or unloving, but because He is good. I’d never know the peace and joy of trusting Him if He always rescued me from myself. And that is abundant grace, too.                                                                         

Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths. Be not wise in your own eyes; Proverbs 3:5-7a ESV

Photos: along the fence on Pollywog Creek