GETTING YOUR HANDS DIRTY

I've heard the old saying, "He/she don't wanna get his/her hands dirty" my whole life.  And I've known people who don't.  Kids who want to watch TV rather than go outside and play.  Men who don't want to mow their own grass.  Nurses who can't wait to "do their time" so they can get some kind of an office job.  Funny thing is, without getting your hands dirty (literally or metaphorically) you don't get much done.

My Dad has big hands.  They have always spoken strength to me.  They are rough to the touch from years of farming, fixing things, scrubbing things and mowing, mowing, mowing.  These same strong, rough hands gently guided me through my childhood.  They held my newborn babies with tenderness and now my grandbabies. 

 My grandbabies Mommy and Daddy tell them that hands are meant for love.  What a beautiful sentence. 


These pictures remind me to reach for joy and for love.










Sometimes our hands get dirty.  When we garden, work, clean, paint....and sometimes they get dirty on the inside. 

But they are meant for love. 


And someday, Jesus will reach for our hands.  And they won't get dirty.

LESSONS IN THE GARDEN 10

 ANNUALS AND PERENNIALS

When I dug my first flower bed, I was excited to plant something that would look pretty immediately.  I wondered the aisles at the Home Depot Garden Center, wondering how anyone knew what to buy.  I ended up buying daisies, because they are my all time favorite flower and a few flowers the man at Home Depot told me were annuals.  He said if you wanted instant color and interest, you needed a few annuals. I have learned that he was right.  Annuals last only a season, but they are usually bright and pretty and add that sort of "oh look at that" feel to a garden.

My mother in law (I hate calling her that-she is way too precious to be an in law) taught me about perennials.  She said they were the best because they came back year after  year like old friends. She dug up some of her precious day lilies and they became some of the first of my "old friends."  They come up every spring and remind me of who sparked my obsession with gardening.

Today I was noticing some of my plants are turning colors-yellow, gold, brown...getting ready to die back for winter.  At the same time, the fall bloomers are at their best.  It occurred to me how like life that is. 

 Some of us are in the season of dying back-preparing for a winter.  We may need to shed a few leaves (responsibilities, relationships) to enter our winter.  There is beauty in that.  Reflecting on a life well lived and being thankful for the people we love-that is sacred.

Others of us are in a season of blooming-building relationships, families, careers.  We may need to lean on a trellis for support.  There is beauty in that.  Recognizing our need for God and others is a powerful thing.

And some of us are in a season that we do not recognize.  The winds have come.  The blooms have faded.  It is the perennials around us that give us hope-The people who love us, the music that speaks to us, the stars that keep coming out at night.  There is beauty in that-believing that our old friends will keep coming back brings comfort.