Let's meet at the beach
And have picnics on Sundays
Until the dogs are old and the
cats have died
And then...
No, let's mix them up and
Learn to live, to mingle
Let every day
Be Sunday
Predictability says
That you hang back
Predictability says
That I plunge in
Incompatibility says
This won't work
Faith says
Two become one
And we spend a life time
Building our puzzle
Turning the pieces this way and that
Until we find what fits
Wednesday, November 21, 2018
Sunday, November 11, 2018
Kintsugi
After all these years, he thought aloud
Maybe he didn't understand
Love
Wasn't it a hand that was snatched away?
A comfortable shoe
That wore down and got tossed in the trash
When the rocks and wet came in
A scenic view but beware the precipice
Tread carefully, play it safe
No, no
After all these years
Her heart had a different understanding
Love
Is to be vulnerable and hold on
Its behaving like an idiot
And knowing, even if I'm a jerk
I'm your jerk and you are mine
It is to spend forever
Working to fit square pegs into round holes
With the faith that
Someday
The puzzle would come together
It is stepping out in fear but believing
That a gift of each heart will be treasured by the other
And so I place mine in your hand
Taking yours in mine
Accepting each as a precious
Once exchanged, we commit
That we shall guard them carefully
And if you should stumble, or should I?
Love is accepting that a crack or two
Might need some TLC
Some glue to fix...but we don't throw away
We'll mend them with gold, Kintsugi
And those repairs will add to the history and
Beauty of the love we share
Until then
Take take my dog hair
And I'll take your pessimism
Take my need for reassurance
And I'll banish your insecurities
We'll take misunderstandings and
Plunge recklessly past them
We'll stand on that precipice and enjoy the scenic view
And jump
Together
Because love doesn't play it safe
Yet it's the most secure place you'll ever be
A work in progress 11/11/2018
Maybe he didn't understand
Love
Wasn't it a hand that was snatched away?
A comfortable shoe
That wore down and got tossed in the trash
When the rocks and wet came in
A scenic view but beware the precipice
Tread carefully, play it safe
No, no
After all these years
Her heart had a different understanding
Love
Is to be vulnerable and hold on
Its behaving like an idiot
And knowing, even if I'm a jerk
I'm your jerk and you are mine
It is to spend forever
Working to fit square pegs into round holes
With the faith that
Someday
The puzzle would come together
It is stepping out in fear but believing
That a gift of each heart will be treasured by the other
And so I place mine in your hand
Taking yours in mine
Accepting each as a precious
Once exchanged, we commit
That we shall guard them carefully
And if you should stumble, or should I?
Love is accepting that a crack or two
Might need some TLC
Some glue to fix...but we don't throw away
We'll mend them with gold, Kintsugi
And those repairs will add to the history and
Beauty of the love we share
Until then
Take take my dog hair
And I'll take your pessimism
Take my need for reassurance
And I'll banish your insecurities
We'll take misunderstandings and
Plunge recklessly past them
We'll stand on that precipice and enjoy the scenic view
And jump
Together
Because love doesn't play it safe
Yet it's the most secure place you'll ever be
A work in progress 11/11/2018
Saturday, November 3, 2018
The death of the accidental pumpkin patch...
It was inevitable: the death of the accidental pumpkin patch. Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 is common knowledge - “To everything there is a season and a purpose under heaven...a time to be born, a time to die, a time to plant, a time to uproot…” This is the end for my accidental pumpkin patch. It has known its season and its time has come. I can’t begin to express how much joy this pumpkin patch brought to me this year. 2018 has been a rough year and that wild, unexpected garden was such a blessing in the midst of adjustments, unknowns, facing the music to the tune of big mistakes -- all part of my continued realization of widowhood.
I’ve said before - I’m not much of a gardener. My husband and I always joked that I had the Black Thumb of Death. Pat would warn not to let plants get near me. My grandfather, Leonard, was a terrific gardner; I have pictures of him standing proudly amidst his produce. He died when I was very small but my few memories of him include the beautiful garden he grew. I never thought I inherited the genes for that skill - I was prone to over-watering. Once damage from over-watering was done I would be afraid and then under water. I always had a rough time getting a knack for keeping greenery alive. It’s not that I didn’t want to... I’ve tried growing things before and wound up with one tiny cucumber, a cantaloupe, watermelon eaten by ants when it was under 3 inches long, and one perfect pumpkin that I cherished. I get very, very excited about pumpkins so I always felt that one was a big success. (I made it into pies after admiring it for a few weeks). Having a volunteer pumpkin patch decide to grow on its own, right outside my kitchen window - this was spectacular!
Given that I had tried to grow pumpkins before and wound up with just one, I wasn’t very confident but I read up on the topic. I studied the needs of pumpkins, learned how to feed them and water them properly. I kept turning the vines from the street. I fought off slugs and mildew with help from friends in the know (big thanks to cousin Pete). I went out there daily with a paintbrush and a Q-tip ready to help pollinate (I learned about pumpkin plants having male and female flowers - quite interesting). Turns out I didn’t need to help the process. Bees and friendly little bugs were hard at work from dawn until midday. Before I knew it, pumpkins were growing and I, with bated breath, was out of doors every morning checking for new ones.
Some grew well, some didn’t. Some started off with promise and were attacked by slugs or worms that pierced through the still soft outer skin. How much this reminded me of myself! As I have been adjusting to widowhood, I’ve scattered my seed in the forms of hopes, dreams and bids for survival. Some of that seed grew, some didn’t. Of the seeds that grew, there were many that held promise but could not grow to maturity because the soil that wasn’t right, the attacks of the enemy, or my own neglect. Some pumpkins were hardy; some were fragile from the get-go.
In my pumpkin patch, the seeds all came from one pumpkin but the pumpkins that grew all looked very different. There were large pumpkins, oval pumpkins, pigmy albinos, small green ones that didn’t turn orange… variety. There were ones that held promise, that I was so excited about, and that couldn’t take the heat after harvest and rotted sooner than I expected. And so my plans and expectations have all been different -- and even things I thought held great promise didn’t necessarily last.
So as you can see in the photo, my pumpkin patch is dying and I’m sad to see it go. Harvesting that last pumpkin was like reading the last page of a book that I didn’t want to end… but it doesn’t have to. The characters in a book live on - a sequel could be written, just like my pumpkin patch is not truly, really dead; it’s fruit will be used for future growth. The beautiful pumpkins that didn’t stay intact as I hoped? They are out in the far back of my yard and I hope to grow a planned pumpkin patch with them next year. Each seed holds within it the hope of a new pumpkin vine and the potential for future fruit. John 12:24 reads, “Very truly I tell you, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds” Think of how many seeds are in each pumpkin! Think of how many seeds - ideas, dreams, goals, challenges - are in me, just waiting for a chance to be planted.
The accidental pumpkin patch wasn’t in the safest place but it grew...and I learned from its growth. My hope is to use what I have learned to be a wise and prepared gardener, not just a gardener by chance. I will strive to grow things in the best place -- but I’ll still be open to surprise gardens. There are things in my life that held promise, that even produced fruit...and their season is also over. I think of Thomas Edison who said, “I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work.” For the things that I put hope in that didn’t float, Learning growth and death, success and failure, the patterns or the randomness - it has all been and continues to be necessary for me to become who I’m meant to be. Maybe the pumpkin patch right there, accidentally planted on a roadside, is who I am… but maybe my life in its fullest is still a seed inside one of the pumpkins that grew from that patch and needs to be planted, grow its own vine, and become a patch to be reckoned with.
So is this the end of my accidental pumpkin patch? I don’t think so...within the seeds it nourished there is hope.
I’ve said before - I’m not much of a gardener. My husband and I always joked that I had the Black Thumb of Death. Pat would warn not to let plants get near me. My grandfather, Leonard, was a terrific gardner; I have pictures of him standing proudly amidst his produce. He died when I was very small but my few memories of him include the beautiful garden he grew. I never thought I inherited the genes for that skill - I was prone to over-watering. Once damage from over-watering was done I would be afraid and then under water. I always had a rough time getting a knack for keeping greenery alive. It’s not that I didn’t want to... I’ve tried growing things before and wound up with one tiny cucumber, a cantaloupe, watermelon eaten by ants when it was under 3 inches long, and one perfect pumpkin that I cherished. I get very, very excited about pumpkins so I always felt that one was a big success. (I made it into pies after admiring it for a few weeks). Having a volunteer pumpkin patch decide to grow on its own, right outside my kitchen window - this was spectacular!
Given that I had tried to grow pumpkins before and wound up with just one, I wasn’t very confident but I read up on the topic. I studied the needs of pumpkins, learned how to feed them and water them properly. I kept turning the vines from the street. I fought off slugs and mildew with help from friends in the know (big thanks to cousin Pete). I went out there daily with a paintbrush and a Q-tip ready to help pollinate (I learned about pumpkin plants having male and female flowers - quite interesting). Turns out I didn’t need to help the process. Bees and friendly little bugs were hard at work from dawn until midday. Before I knew it, pumpkins were growing and I, with bated breath, was out of doors every morning checking for new ones.
Some grew well, some didn’t. Some started off with promise and were attacked by slugs or worms that pierced through the still soft outer skin. How much this reminded me of myself! As I have been adjusting to widowhood, I’ve scattered my seed in the forms of hopes, dreams and bids for survival. Some of that seed grew, some didn’t. Of the seeds that grew, there were many that held promise but could not grow to maturity because the soil that wasn’t right, the attacks of the enemy, or my own neglect. Some pumpkins were hardy; some were fragile from the get-go.
In my pumpkin patch, the seeds all came from one pumpkin but the pumpkins that grew all looked very different. There were large pumpkins, oval pumpkins, pigmy albinos, small green ones that didn’t turn orange… variety. There were ones that held promise, that I was so excited about, and that couldn’t take the heat after harvest and rotted sooner than I expected. And so my plans and expectations have all been different -- and even things I thought held great promise didn’t necessarily last.
So as you can see in the photo, my pumpkin patch is dying and I’m sad to see it go. Harvesting that last pumpkin was like reading the last page of a book that I didn’t want to end… but it doesn’t have to. The characters in a book live on - a sequel could be written, just like my pumpkin patch is not truly, really dead; it’s fruit will be used for future growth. The beautiful pumpkins that didn’t stay intact as I hoped? They are out in the far back of my yard and I hope to grow a planned pumpkin patch with them next year. Each seed holds within it the hope of a new pumpkin vine and the potential for future fruit. John 12:24 reads, “Very truly I tell you, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds” Think of how many seeds are in each pumpkin! Think of how many seeds - ideas, dreams, goals, challenges - are in me, just waiting for a chance to be planted.
The accidental pumpkin patch wasn’t in the safest place but it grew...and I learned from its growth. My hope is to use what I have learned to be a wise and prepared gardener, not just a gardener by chance. I will strive to grow things in the best place -- but I’ll still be open to surprise gardens. There are things in my life that held promise, that even produced fruit...and their season is also over. I think of Thomas Edison who said, “I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work.” For the things that I put hope in that didn’t float, Learning growth and death, success and failure, the patterns or the randomness - it has all been and continues to be necessary for me to become who I’m meant to be. Maybe the pumpkin patch right there, accidentally planted on a roadside, is who I am… but maybe my life in its fullest is still a seed inside one of the pumpkins that grew from that patch and needs to be planted, grow its own vine, and become a patch to be reckoned with.
So is this the end of my accidental pumpkin patch? I don’t think so...within the seeds it nourished there is hope.
Saturday, August 25, 2018
Habits —
Written on July 24, 2018
Habits, even bad ones
Are hard to shake
Knowing it’s no good
Or wrong
Or unproductive
Cannot be enough
Funny how you can get
A wishful thinking
For a shoe that didn’t fit
But made you feel pretty for a
moment
Or for a back that never got scratched
A neck that needed rubbing
And never found a willing hand
Perhaps the state of discomfort
Kept you on edge
And that edge of never
Having or being enough
Was somehow easier than accepting happiness
Than accepting you can be
Appreciated
Adored
Mutually respected
Silly girl, I tell you
Let old bad habits fall
Into memory boxes
That never get opened
On the back shelf
In the darkest corner
Or straight to the trash heap
Where they belong with
Unappetizing junk like
Stale bread or soggy chips
Let them just be lessons learned
Cautionary tales heeded
And smile at the happy groove
Of good times present
Saturday, August 4, 2018
Threshold
Her heart was on her sleeve
Like a neon sign
Flashing "Vacancy"
She had room to love
Room to care
A predisposition to vulnerability
His heart was tucked
Securely in his breast pocket
Wrapped with a handkerchief
He was afraid to open it
And held it close
Not willing to be less than cautious
She? She liked to test the water,
Not with a finger dipped in to gauge
Too hot or too cold
But with a cannon ball
Full immersion
Risk taken
He couldn't swim
So he kept himself safe from the edge
Close, but never deep
Watching the waves
Nothing ventured
Nothing gained
Her heart sings and longs to hear
A a splash as he joins her
Or melody sung from the shore in return
His heart is choked and silent
Disappointment has a hand
Suffocating his words
Paralyzing, immobilizing
So His eyes burn, they seem to plead
"Read me!"
Seeking to give a sign
Of depth beneath the silence
Time, he thought, in time
A sound might escape these lips
If only she would wait...
She doesn't waste time
Or watch clocks tick
She knows that clocks stop
And hearts don't just break
Sometimes their beating ends
And so
Her heart is on her sleeve
Like a neon sign
Flashing vacancy
Predisposed to vulnerability
A tear is on her cheek
And warmth is in her arms, in her hopes
He stands on the threshold
Mute
"Fear is a damnable thing," she says
The light is on
The door is open
But it is getting late
Pesky doubts just like
Mosquitoes and bats
Are drawn to the light
Of a door left cracked
Her heart was on her sleeve
Like a neon sign
Flashing vacancy
Predisposed to vulnerability
He took a step ...
Like a neon sign
Flashing "Vacancy"
She had room to love
Room to care
A predisposition to vulnerability
His heart was tucked
Securely in his breast pocket
Wrapped with a handkerchief
He was afraid to open it
And held it close
Not willing to be less than cautious
She? She liked to test the water,
Not with a finger dipped in to gauge
Too hot or too cold
But with a cannon ball
Full immersion
Risk taken
He couldn't swim
So he kept himself safe from the edge
Close, but never deep
Watching the waves
Nothing ventured
Nothing gained
Her heart sings and longs to hear
A a splash as he joins her
Or melody sung from the shore in return
His heart is choked and silent
Disappointment has a hand
Suffocating his words
Paralyzing, immobilizing
So His eyes burn, they seem to plead
"Read me!"
Seeking to give a sign
Of depth beneath the silence
Time, he thought, in time
A sound might escape these lips
If only she would wait...
She doesn't waste time
Or watch clocks tick
She knows that clocks stop
And hearts don't just break
Sometimes their beating ends
And so
Her heart is on her sleeve
Like a neon sign
Flashing vacancy
Predisposed to vulnerability
A tear is on her cheek
And warmth is in her arms, in her hopes
He stands on the threshold
Mute
"Fear is a damnable thing," she says
The light is on
The door is open
But it is getting late
Pesky doubts just like
Mosquitoes and bats
Are drawn to the light
Of a door left cracked
Her heart was on her sleeve
Like a neon sign
Flashing vacancy
Predisposed to vulnerability
He took a step ...
Friday, July 27, 2018
Fruit that doesn't mature - more from the pumpkin patch
We had some wonderful rain last night so I went out to survey my accidental pumpkin patch this morning to see how it fared during the storm. While the majority of pumpkins are doing fine, I took sad notice that one of the newest fruits was dying. Not having a massive crop, it is a mournful thing to see a little one that didn't make it. I'm emotionally invested in this pumpkin patch, so I've developed a tendency to place high hope into each baby pumpkin that has begun.
Having dealt with the major loss of my husband, I've become aware of a couple of things. A huge loss can numb you to other losses or it can make you hypersensitive to smaller losses. Each failure, each expectation that fails to grow to maturity, each time there is some sort of ending, will be deeply noticed. Often your reaction will form echoing changes made to you by that greater loss. I've seen this in other people's lives; I see it in my own. My reaction could be something like, "Yep, another pumpkin died. I should've expected it. Nothing goes right. God hates me." or "Oh, no! One of my babies is rotten! What did I do wrong? Omigosh, now there are only 7 pumpkins. What if more die?" or even, "Why do I even care? I didn't plant these pumpkins; they are more trouble than they are worth. I don't need them!" None of those reactions suit me; I think I'm learning to adapt.
As I said above, I'm emotionally invested in my accidental pumpkin patch. Why? Because I see so much of myself in that patch growing from a rotted pumpkin swept out to the street-end of the driveway. It's "me" as I've found myself without my husband. The loss of Pat has been hard and still is - a hard fact it has taught me is that life goes on and I must go on. And so this patch reminds me that I can grow, I can bloom, and even produce fruit. "Commit to the Lord whatever you do,
and he will establish your plans.' Proverbs 16:3 (NIV)
That fruit represents singular hopes to me -- ideas, plans... Now, as an adult, I know that not every idea will find its way to maturation. Not every hope is realistic; some are false. As my favorite Scottish bard famously said, "The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry." Looking out there over my pumpkin patch, I've got two big fat pumpkins who are doing fantastically. These remind me of the ideas/plans that I have that are built on solid skills/gifts that I know God has given me and I use. Nurture and care are still required, but I feel confident in their success. There are a couple newer ones, past what I consider the danger stage, that appear to be growing nicely. I've noticed that in all of these spacing is key. Too many fruits cluttered by one vine don't make it.
The albino pumpkins (two right now) are slower to grow but appear to be doing well. These are perhaps the odd-ball hopes and ideas of mine, things that I want to or need to develop. They are the possibilities that I hadn't considered but am taking a chance with and am pleasantly surprised at seeing progress. I can honestly say I've been surprised by bits and pieces of "me" that I wasn't aware of, abilities I didn't know I had and interests that I'm just beginning to explore and expand.
The baby pumpkins dying so young are ideas that came at the wrong time or those things I'm spread to thin to put enough effort or energy into. Perhaps they weren't the best for me or they are those things that I've put false hope into. Then there is the little pumpkin that got accidentally run over and smashed -- well, that was a plan or possibility that was "out on the limb." Either it was too far-fetched or I simply wasn't guarding it well. It's a good idea to be wary of putting yourself "out there" where you or yours could be in harm's way. "Commit to the LORD whatever you do, and he will establish your plans." Proverbs 16:3 That particular smashed pumpkin specifically reminds me of a big mistake I made that I have gleaned a great deal from, albeit painfully.
As I continue to watch this unexpected garden grow, I keep learning new things about it and about myself. Isaiah 58:11 energizes me, "The LORD will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail." I pray that God helps me put my energy into ideas that He blesses, to not invest my heart in false hopes, and to help me to accept small losses with dignity while directing my energies towards developing spiritual fruit and not selfish gain. "In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps." Proverbs 16:9
Having dealt with the major loss of my husband, I've become aware of a couple of things. A huge loss can numb you to other losses or it can make you hypersensitive to smaller losses. Each failure, each expectation that fails to grow to maturity, each time there is some sort of ending, will be deeply noticed. Often your reaction will form echoing changes made to you by that greater loss. I've seen this in other people's lives; I see it in my own. My reaction could be something like, "Yep, another pumpkin died. I should've expected it. Nothing goes right. God hates me." or "Oh, no! One of my babies is rotten! What did I do wrong? Omigosh, now there are only 7 pumpkins. What if more die?" or even, "Why do I even care? I didn't plant these pumpkins; they are more trouble than they are worth. I don't need them!" None of those reactions suit me; I think I'm learning to adapt.
As I said above, I'm emotionally invested in my accidental pumpkin patch. Why? Because I see so much of myself in that patch growing from a rotted pumpkin swept out to the street-end of the driveway. It's "me" as I've found myself without my husband. The loss of Pat has been hard and still is - a hard fact it has taught me is that life goes on and I must go on. And so this patch reminds me that I can grow, I can bloom, and even produce fruit. "Commit to the Lord whatever you do,
and he will establish your plans.' Proverbs 16:3 (NIV)
That fruit represents singular hopes to me -- ideas, plans... Now, as an adult, I know that not every idea will find its way to maturation. Not every hope is realistic; some are false. As my favorite Scottish bard famously said, "The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry." Looking out there over my pumpkin patch, I've got two big fat pumpkins who are doing fantastically. These remind me of the ideas/plans that I have that are built on solid skills/gifts that I know God has given me and I use. Nurture and care are still required, but I feel confident in their success. There are a couple newer ones, past what I consider the danger stage, that appear to be growing nicely. I've noticed that in all of these spacing is key. Too many fruits cluttered by one vine don't make it.
The albino pumpkins (two right now) are slower to grow but appear to be doing well. These are perhaps the odd-ball hopes and ideas of mine, things that I want to or need to develop. They are the possibilities that I hadn't considered but am taking a chance with and am pleasantly surprised at seeing progress. I can honestly say I've been surprised by bits and pieces of "me" that I wasn't aware of, abilities I didn't know I had and interests that I'm just beginning to explore and expand.
The baby pumpkins dying so young are ideas that came at the wrong time or those things I'm spread to thin to put enough effort or energy into. Perhaps they weren't the best for me or they are those things that I've put false hope into. Then there is the little pumpkin that got accidentally run over and smashed -- well, that was a plan or possibility that was "out on the limb." Either it was too far-fetched or I simply wasn't guarding it well. It's a good idea to be wary of putting yourself "out there" where you or yours could be in harm's way. "Commit to the LORD whatever you do, and he will establish your plans." Proverbs 16:3 That particular smashed pumpkin specifically reminds me of a big mistake I made that I have gleaned a great deal from, albeit painfully.
As I continue to watch this unexpected garden grow, I keep learning new things about it and about myself. Isaiah 58:11 energizes me, "The LORD will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail." I pray that God helps me put my energy into ideas that He blesses, to not invest my heart in false hopes, and to help me to accept small losses with dignity while directing my energies towards developing spiritual fruit and not selfish gain. "In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps." Proverbs 16:9
More from the accidental pumpkin patch
My accidental roadside pumpkin patch took a hit this weekend. While I was at church, someone must have decided to turn around in my driveway and in doing so clipped the edge of the patch, taking out a fledgling pumpkin that germinated to close to the driveway. I mourned when I first noticed this. Eddy and I examined the direction in which the leaves were flattened, trying to figure out what happened. Forensic gardeners, we are not, but we did figure out that the area that was hit was only hit once. The tires didn't go back over in the same spot. The little pumpkin that got flattened was the size of a nectarine and will be missed. Anyhow, there are still lessons to be learned by the demise of the pumpkin on the edge.
First of all, I should've put up some kind of boundary around them. A stick with a flag. Something. I've been busy and Home Depot, Tractor Supply, well, those are not my favorite stores to shop in. There will be times you have to go out of your way. to protect what is yours. The Bible says to, "Guard your heart with all diligence for out of it flow the wellsprings of life." (Proverbs 4:23, KJV) If you're going to be growing and sprouting fruit in a dangerous or unlikely area, you need to take extra precautions -- and if circumstances have you exposing your heart, you need a good set of standards to those tender parts out of harm's way.
Some people show up in your life only to turn around in your driveway. They aren't looking to see if you have anything growing on the side. They aren't worried about anything but using your driveway to fulfill a need of their own to turn and go somewhere else. For people like this, they care about your driveway being convenient - they are not likely to notice that you have a nice pumpkin patch growing off to one side. You never know when people like this will show up so while it is tempting to have something spikey and dangerous around the pumpkins to protect them a nice tall stick with a flag at the corner and possibly a fence should help. In life, these are the people who want stuff from you and perhaps you need to make sure you have a flag up. This kind of stuff is unpredictable so you just need to prepare by having whatever the pumpkins in your life are protected. That way people can do a quick turn around and you aren't injured. "See then that you walk circumspectly, not as fools, but as wise, Redeeming the time, because the days are evil." (Ephesians 5:15-16, NKJV) Basically, be prepared. Don't be a fool. Get some markers up; get a sign that says "Keep off the pumpkins!" if need be.
Eddy reminded me that there are also those people who have no interest in your pumpkins and no respect for your passion for them. They probably think it is a stupid place to grow them and really don't want to hear you talk about your massive unplanned garden. You will likely learn pretty fast that they simply have no desire to hear about your pumpkin plants and share none of your excitement. If your passion is spiritual things and you are growing spiritual fruit, don't be unequally yoked with an unbeliever. S/he will not care about turning you astray or offending you in any way. Certainly don't expect a person such as this to help you at all in nurturing your crop. Matthew 7:6 says, "Don't give what is holy to dogs or toss your pearls before pigs, or they will trample them under their feet, turn, and tear you to pieces." (KJV)
I'm trying not to worry about the day coming when my pumpkins are ripe and appealing to thieves. That day may come...
First of all, I should've put up some kind of boundary around them. A stick with a flag. Something. I've been busy and Home Depot, Tractor Supply, well, those are not my favorite stores to shop in. There will be times you have to go out of your way. to protect what is yours. The Bible says to, "Guard your heart with all diligence for out of it flow the wellsprings of life." (Proverbs 4:23, KJV) If you're going to be growing and sprouting fruit in a dangerous or unlikely area, you need to take extra precautions -- and if circumstances have you exposing your heart, you need a good set of standards to those tender parts out of harm's way.
Some people show up in your life only to turn around in your driveway. They aren't looking to see if you have anything growing on the side. They aren't worried about anything but using your driveway to fulfill a need of their own to turn and go somewhere else. For people like this, they care about your driveway being convenient - they are not likely to notice that you have a nice pumpkin patch growing off to one side. You never know when people like this will show up so while it is tempting to have something spikey and dangerous around the pumpkins to protect them a nice tall stick with a flag at the corner and possibly a fence should help. In life, these are the people who want stuff from you and perhaps you need to make sure you have a flag up. This kind of stuff is unpredictable so you just need to prepare by having whatever the pumpkins in your life are protected. That way people can do a quick turn around and you aren't injured. "See then that you walk circumspectly, not as fools, but as wise, Redeeming the time, because the days are evil." (Ephesians 5:15-16, NKJV) Basically, be prepared. Don't be a fool. Get some markers up; get a sign that says "Keep off the pumpkins!" if need be.
Eddy reminded me that there are also those people who have no interest in your pumpkins and no respect for your passion for them. They probably think it is a stupid place to grow them and really don't want to hear you talk about your massive unplanned garden. You will likely learn pretty fast that they simply have no desire to hear about your pumpkin plants and share none of your excitement. If your passion is spiritual things and you are growing spiritual fruit, don't be unequally yoked with an unbeliever. S/he will not care about turning you astray or offending you in any way. Certainly don't expect a person such as this to help you at all in nurturing your crop. Matthew 7:6 says, "Don't give what is holy to dogs or toss your pearls before pigs, or they will trample them under their feet, turn, and tear you to pieces." (KJV)
I'm trying not to worry about the day coming when my pumpkins are ripe and appealing to thieves. That day may come...
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