Friday, March 08, 2024




Garden of Wonders

 "One of the wonders of Santa Ana is a hidden garden. It's a garden in which the science of botany is developed to veritable zeniths, for here thrives countless varieties of flower and plant life of intense interest to everybody. If motoring past the residence at 1317 Spurgeon Street, a stranger would not have the least idea of the existence of such a wonderland thereabout. Yet, there it is, just around the corner of that residence. 

Blauer's Nursery and Cacti Garden, one of the busiest spots in all Orange county under the able management of Fred C. Blauer. 

In strolling through one section of the place, one gets all the illusions of being on a far-away desert inasmuch as all kinds of cactus specimens abound. Then a visit to another corner is for all the world like being in the tropics while adjacent nooks are remindful of flower filled decks back in the old Missouri or Indiana home in the merry month of June.

Everywhere in this hidden garden Nature is at its glorious best and it's an ideal place to go to renew one's faith in the munificence of a Higher Power."

 These words are from a newspaper article describing my Grandfather's nursery and it can't begin to exaggerate the beauty and impression it left on me. The love I have for gardening is foremost inspired by the boyhood play and work in this wonderland. I suppose the property was about two acres. As a boy I wandered though wisteria covered arbors, blossoming gardenia, hibiscus and rose. The scent of which lingers still. 

 I'm not sure when it was built, but my memory is of aged buildings with squeaky slat doors, worn from years of use. I explored with childhood curiosity every nook and cranny, old potting sheds, the tropical smell and humidity of the large glass house used to start cuttings, and it still rushes to memory whenever I find myself in the rain-forests of Oregon or in a local nursery selecting a flower seen in the old family business. Dark backrooms with a bare bulb, or no light at all but what comes in through the slats. Tool sheds filled with what would be antique treasures today. I'm sure my love for the old and worn is shaped by these boyhood memories.

 My work ethic was born from the labor under Dad's watchful eye as I watered the stock or filled countless gallon cans with earth. Like the old blacksmith, my father's hands and arms were muscled by his labor there. Giving up a career as a pilot trainer to come to his Father's and in maintaining the family business, I'm sure he loved the work, but always looked back. 

I look back too, would that I had stepped in and continued the work.... 



 

Thursday, March 07, 2024


 

"So it is with those Spirit led prayers, 

which sound all broken up 

with discordant sighs and inarticulate expressions. 


Some are even heaving of the bosom, 

sobbing of the heart, 

and anguish of spirit. 


Our gracious Father reads them as a man reads a book, 

and they are written in a character which he fully understands."

Wednesday, March 06, 2024


 We preach Jesus

“For the protection of the innocent, 

for the safeguarding of the weak,

 

for the warning of the tempted 

and the alarm of the wicked,

 

the truth must be told, 

the truth that sets you free.”

 

Ernest a. Bell. 



 One of the most respected Puritan author is Richard Sibbs, I've been reading him online and in a chapter about devoting our work, how ever mundane, to God, he made a comment that I've never heard before, it's regarding his understanding of the scripture about the "woman being saved through child bearing."

 “Whatever you do, do your work heartily, as for the Lord and not for people, knowing that it is from the Lord that you will receive the reward of the inheritance. It is the Lord Christ whom you serve. 

So even the poorest servant in his drudgery, serves God if he does it as in the presence of God. 

The poor woman, in bearing and bringing up children, shall be saved; that is, her salvation is not in any way hindered thereby, but rather furthered. 

So that it is graced that elevates earthly works and makes them heavenly.” 

The point that struck me, is that bearing and bringing up children is truly doing “mission work,” she is not a bit hindered by the unending tasks that come with child rearing, but rather, her salvation is furthered. 

 I love this interpretation! "shall be saved; that is, her salvation is not in any way hindered thereby, but rather furthered."

The Mother's work is equal to any Christian ministry.

Monday, March 04, 2024


 

Living with a Broken Heart

Remember what the Tin Man said in the “Wizard of Oz” after he finally got a heart….
“Now I know I've got a heart because it’s breaking.”
If someone you love died, your heart is probably broken. So how do you live with a broken heart? The answer isn’t how you fix it or move beyond it. The skill is learning to live with your grief as an ongoing way of being in the world. It’s the way you honor that which you love.
What I’m proposing is that, with enough healing, living with heartbreak can become natural, and very normal.
From my personal and professional experience, I can tell you that as you embark on your healing journey, you’ll start crying a whole lot more. Not just to clear pain, but for the simplest of everyday reasons, and out of nowhere. You’ll cry when you see a bird, a can of paint, an apple, or even the shape of a cloud.
Random things will make you cry.
The heart is designed to grieve, it wants to grieve…..it has to grieve!
Especially when it’s broken.
This is the price you pay for love. The loss of the life you thought you had,
the life you once knew and held so dear.
Loss of a dream you believed was true.
But you can also find and feel grief in opening your heart. Opening it to love and to new possibilities. Opening it to what the future holds.
Isn’t that what life is all about? Endings and beginnings, closings and openings?
The heart was designed to navigate you through this forever winding adventure called life. But you have to be willing to feel…..and to live with a broken heart.
Here’s the thing…..you can learn to live with your broken heart by befriending your grief.
You can discover the love that still exists around you…..and share that love with others who are also living with a broken heart.
Gary Sturgis - “Surviving Grief”

Sunday, March 03, 2024


 


 

"Betrayal is a truly awful thing.
I’ve faced it more than once and
I’m sure you can say the same.
It will leave you broken like few things can.
It will leave a gaping wound,
that will change you.
Sometimes, the grief of being betrayed
will cast a shadow over every relationship
You have had, or will have.
You often lose the benefits of that easy trust, that sweet security, that fine faithfulness.
I once talked to a woman in her eighties.
She had survived her husband’s adultery.
But she was quick to say that no matter how much she fought the emotions, and had forgiven him, and they stayed together, it was still always in the back of your mind. Always.
At least for her.
Others have told me they took that betrayal and pinned it to a hundred other people
after, who probably didn’t deserve it.
These are people who have become
victims of betrayal.
Before we judge it harshly, know it’s so
is easy to do. Truly.
And…the more intimate the relationship,
the deeper the wounding.
Still….it’s not nearly as profitable as
healing and growing and letting go,
so that you can let others in.
Most of our feelings about betrayal are
things we have thought about for too
long and too hard.
We can not choose our feelings or what someone else did to us, but we can choose what feelings we keep, coddle, and what we do to others. How we grow through betrayal
makes us a victim or a victor, who does
not let feeling dominate.
Many find themselves immersed in the obsession of pain in betrayal.
Maybe because it’s more than one thing.
As a young man pointed out to me, after his father left the family, It’s not just lying, it’s stealing, it’s cheating, it’s the fear, the shame, unfaithfulness, degradation, the pain of the
unforgivable. It’s hurts!
Maybe because it’s usually done to us by someone we love, respect, honor and truly wanted in our lives.
So, the mixed emotions cloud every
beautiful shining one, that seems to try
and get through.
But as long as we choose to be a victim,
we cannot live joyfully as a victor.
We will keep betraying our own selves the joy of becoming more than our betrayal.
And we are so much more!
Keeping betrayal alive and doing its
damage in our lives, does not victory bring.
Instead it brings more destruction.
Today, while you likely can not go to the person who betrayed you and set it all
back into the way you think it ought to be,
you can go to God.
You can let Him carry your pain.
You can train yourself to live beyond betrayal.
Betrayal defaults to hate.
The heart was not designed to hold
hatred and unforgiveness.
It will affect your whole health
if you cling to it for too long.
When you can’t change it, you can change how you use it in your life.
Determine to let that betrayal become a lesson, but not a life long sentence.
Let it be a discernment for trusting, but
not a wall to keep out goodness.
You are too precious to stay locked
in your own victimization.
Train yourself to walk free, to help another prisoner of pain, to grasp the beautiful
healing that can be yours.
Maybe today is the day to restore
your heart’s hope.
Only you .....choose to be a victim."
~AnnStewartPorter

Tuesday, February 27, 2024


 Recovery help 


 Post-acute withdrawal syndrome (PAWS) 

refers to a set of symptoms that occur after the acute phase of withdrawal from drugs or alcohol. 

Unlike acute withdrawal symptoms, which typically last for a short period after stopping substance use, 

PAWS can persist for weeks, months, or even years. 

These symptoms can include 

mood swings, 

anxiety, 

depression, 

cognitive difficulties, 

and cravings, 

and they can fluctuate in intensity over time. 

PAWS can pose significant challenges for individuals in recovery, but with appropriate support and treatment, they can gradually diminish as the brain and body adjust to sobriety.

Thursday, February 22, 2024




 While talking with one of the men in the UGM recovery program, I heard a woman loudly shouting threats and cries on the street. 
We meet on the second floor each week where I mentor him, and there is a large bay window where we can look out over the streets. 
I'm sure I've heard this same woman crying out before, but it's not an unusual thing, but this day the Holy Spirit began to rise up in compassion for this woman. 
I interrupted our discussion and suggested we pray for the woman. 
We decided to get up and see if we could identify her, but the shouts echo off the buildings so we surveyed the streets, lined with people awaiting a meal and couldn't see who was shouting. As I looked on the mass of hurting people my thoughts shifted from her to others. 
At last we looked on the other side and saw the woman who so loudly poured out her life's complaints. She was busy about her shopping basket which contained all her life's belongings. 

So now I began to pray but the "moment" of emotion had passed for me, but I prayed none the same. 
When I finished, it appeared that the Holy Spirit had fallen on the fella I was with and he poured out a heartfelt prayer for this forlorn woman.  

When he concluded, he just stood there and remarked how he had Holy Spirit goosebumps all over him! I too felt the Presence as he prayed. 

It was but a "moment," a seemingly small obedience to Christ's command that "men ought always to pray."

When I left I thought I might see her, but she had moved on; but one of the brothers in the program was standing outside between some people and I greeted him, chatted for a minute, and then I greeted a young woman, 22ish, on his left, a pathetic little thing, tall, very thin with scabs on her face, little beauty on the outside, but remnants of youthfulness in her voice. I looked her straight in the eyes and felt such a love for her, looking back, I missed an opportunity to pray for her. Why didn't I?
I was in a rush to beat traffic, so I turned to quickly greet another tall, handsome young man with a hard gaze, and also many scabs, and he put out his hand and looked me straight in the face. I simply said, 'God bless you brother.' To which he responded, "God bless you too." Somehow I felt like he really meant it, and I thanked him and walked through the crowd to my car.