Tales From the Garden

2011-12-29T10:17:00.000-08:00

Okay, now I'm trying Text Boxes

testing

2011-12-29T10:10:00.000-08:00

testing

testing

2011-12-29T08:53:00.000-08:00

Let's see what happens with this one..

HTML lessons

testing block quotes 3

2011-12-29T08:42:00.000-08:00

TEsting

testing, 123

Testing Block Quotes

2011-12-29T08:36:00.001-08:00

trying again

Does this work?

Testing Block Quotes

2011-12-29T08:29:00.000-08:00

What happens if I test Block Quotes?

Does this work?

2011-11-07T20:42:00.000-08:00

We all know about the organization Compassion International, but recently I've been considering them in a whole new light and hope you will too.

Growing up, my family sponsored a Compassion child. I took it upon myself to write her letters and can still remember snippets of what she wrote back to us. In one letter, she informed our family that she used her birthday money to buy a coat for an elderly woman in her village. As a child, I wondered why. As an adult, I marvel at her generosity.

Later in life and my ex-husband and I sponsored a child. We had the money automatically withdrawn from our account. I didn't correspond or pray for her very often. When Compassion lost access to her country, finances weren't very good so we didn't take another child.

Recently I read a story about how one family rejoiced and danced for days upon learning a sponsor had been found for their child. The thought gave me pause.

I mean, how often are we given such a great opportunity to bless someone else?

Furthermore I learned that the letters were the greatest treasure. The time the sponsor took to write the child, restored their view of their worth.

Suddenly I wanted another chance. Times are tough in America and many of us are facing uncertainty. Yet how amazing is it that we have it in our power to deliver someone else from that same sickening fear.

Last month, I became a sponsor and am determined to do better this time.

So here's my challenge if you want to join me.

If you have a Compassion Child, will you take time today to write them and pray for them? No message is worse than being told you don't matter. Let's counter that message.

If you're not sponsoring a child, will you click on the link below and tour the site? Who knows, perhaps God has an incredible plan waiting for you and someone else.

Sponsor a Child

2011-09-29T10:18:00.000-07:00

Media Change - Coming soon from Watermelon Ministries on Vimeo.

2011-09-28T10:50:00.000-07:00

“We have much to be judged on when he comes, slums and battlefields and insane asylums, but these are the symptoms of our illness and the result of our failures in love.”

― Madeleine L'Engle

When my brother traveled to the Sudan he

carried had an encounter that changed his life—and as it ends up, mine too.

He stood in Darfur at an orphanage filled with children leftover from the genocide. There were over 800 children, and during the night, wild dogs were dragging them off and killing them.

My brother already felt shell-shocked from the travesties he'd witnessed in Uganda.

The day was hot. The sun beat down upon him. His camera had nearly been ruined from all the dust. He'd barley slept. His gear was heavy. Yet his conscience was seared by the numbness he felt, so he turned and confessed to a Sudanese pastor.

"We shall pray right now that you’re heart will be opened," he was told.

Not long after that prayer three young children approached Joshua and started to follow him. After a bit, his father nature kicked in and he stopped and sang Father Abraham. It didn't take long before the four of them were dancing and going through the motions.

When they finished, he asked the children to tell him how they came to be there.

The oldest, a girl, answered. "The soldiers came and shot my mother and father, so I came here."

The two other children with her, nodded. "Me, too."

He was grief struck, but it was what transpired next that tore my heart. "Do you have a Mommy?" The little girl asked my brother.

"Yes," he answered.

"And a Daddy?"

Again, his answer was yes.

"Oh," she said, her voice hinting at a strange intermingling of numbness and grief.

Her question stirs me still. For I believe it came from her soul and revealed the thoughts of her heart. She didn't want to know what his country was like, what kind of food he ate, or what he did for a living. She had her own bullet holes leftover from the genocide. Her world consisted of this single question: Who still had parents and who didn't?

In her questions I heard her worry and fear. Imagine being trapped in a war-torn country, a land of famine, drought and disease. Imagine trying to survive it as an orphan with death threatening you everyday. No matter how much she's endured, at the end of the day she's still a just little girl. And all she really wants is her Mom and Dad.

I imagined my daughter living as an orphan in the Sudan. If I were shot and dying, it would be my hope that my brothers and sisters would care for my daughter. But what if her aunts and uncles were killed too?

It is sobering to realize that as members of the body of Christ, these children are not alone. They have aunts and uncles. Multitudes and multitudes and multitudes of them. Talk about staggering! These kids were my nieces and nephews! But not just mine.

So who, I wondered, within the church had the responsibility to step in?

Earlier that week I was shocked to learn that globally, I was one of the richest people in the world—even thought as an American, I'm pretty poor.

Like it or not, I realized, I was the rich aunt. And I had knowledge of the situation, which made me accountable.

I wasn't comfortable with the knowledge then, and I'm not comfortable with the knowledge now. But I am determined to do something. Anything.

That day Joshua had in his possession a picture book that someone had purchased and asked him to give to someone in the Sudan. It was a children's book with a story about how we have a Heavenly Father who always loves and cares for us. Joshua read the book and gave it to them.

An American woman took it upon herself to raise the money to build shelter. Every person who donated, even a dollar, helped to create a place where the little girl now sleeps safe from the wild dogs.

When Joshua told me he's going to start a branch of Watermelon Ministries

called Media Change, a non-profit encouraging Americans to give up a portion of the money they spend on entertainment to serve those fighting world hunger and thirst, I wanted to support it.

For seven years he's helped non-profits raise money that serves the "least of these." He's seen the impact a small investment can have. This is a brand new initiative. He's not quite ready to launch, but you can sign up and be kept updated at www.mediachange.org. His first goal is garner the support of 10,000 people who are willing to give $10 a month. I'm number #3.

This is only a blog post, but who knows what one blog post can do.

What if the task of helping others isn't as overwhelming as we make it? What if it's only one small act after another?

I Have a Vegetable Garden!

2009-04-24T09:05:00.000-07:00

Frost

2008-11-28T15:50:00.001-08:00

Harvest

2008-11-28T15:30:00.000-08:00

This year, I did something I've never done before. I knocked on neighbors doors and asked to harvest their extra apples, pear, persimmon and walnut trees.

I can not even describe the joy and fulfillment I had gathering fruit. Surely our souls long for Eden and recognizes when we return back to our original assignment.

Strangely, gathering the walnuts was the most satisfying to the soul. I'd go early in the morning and standing amidst the rising mist, I'd gather the husks, listening to the leaves crackling under my feet. The slant of sunlight through branches, that wonderful, peculiar smell that rises from the black walnuts hulls--it was all a taste of heaven.

The pears were the easiest. I don't think I spent more than a half-hour total gathering the fruit. But alas, they rotted very quickly. I never found a good use for them, except eating them while they were fresh. They had the crispness of an apple, but with the taste of the pear.

The apples were an answer to prayer. Every day I asked God to open my eyes to apple trees, but all the way up until the night before the hard frost, I did not see any. Then, the previous evening I finally found some. And they not only graciously let me pick their apples, but supplied a picker and called another family member who had about 2 trees needing harvesting still. I had one day, and you can see what I gathered. I've made some awesome apple butter. (In fact, I must continue that tomorrow.)

The persimmons are a delight onto themselves. The color of apricot and the taste of candy, they pack a powerful punch. I've pulped about 15 to 20 bags worth. At our Thanksgiving table I made a 130 year old persimmon pudding that was a huge hit. I also learned some great apple pie recipes--one of which is in this picture.

Cat Nap

2007-05-23T14:55:00.000-07:00

I found this transplant sleeping in my flowerbed . . . I just hope he didn't decide to snooze on a old-fashion hollyhock left over from a huge colony I used to have and was trying to revive with four plants I found that still were blooming after four years.