Blue Hydrangeas

“Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow of turning.” James 1:17

A couple of years after Mom died, I went to the Mobile Botanical Gardens to celebrate her June 10 birthday. I spent the morning roaming along meandering paths admiring nature’s beauty and missing Mom. In the structured, manicured herb garden I curled onto the wooden bench of a latticed arbor and called Dad from my cell phone. I described to him the snowy cascade of roses that tumbled over my head and down the sides of the arbor. I could hear the smile in his voice as we chatted, savoring memories of Mom and I felt the shift to sorrow as we shared the heartache of losing her.

Reluctantly I ended the call and continued my stroll through the gardens. A worn, wooded path along the perimeter beckoned to me and I drifted into a brown world of dirt and dead leaves far from the vibrant roses and fragrant rosemary and sage. I walked about ten minutes as the path wound uphill and the mottled sunlight floated toward me through the canopy. As I rounded a curve and gazed upward, I felt like Dorothy entering the technicolor dream world of Oz. Before me the hilltop garden opened up to reveal a rainbow of hydrangeas in purples, pinks and blues. My breath caught as my eyes feasted on the botanical bounty in front of me. I wove along the path, examining the flowers, but stopped to gaze at the blue ones, the most prevalent color among the plethora of showy blooms.

I sat down on a periwinkle bench, laughing and crying, and called Dad back. I described the scene to him. “Your Momma always did love blue hydrangeas.”  His voice was soft, full of love and longing. The beauty before me reminded me that Mom was now in a place of unimaginable splendor, unfathomable peace and unending love. All her sorrow and sickness were erased. And even though Dad and I were separated from each other by hundreds of miles and were temporarily separated from Mom, it felt like God gave us a birthday gift meant just for her and just for us: a garden of blue hydrangeas.

Close Encounters

Two weeks ago a close encounter with a snake led to a weepy, worshipful Wednesday. Early in the morning I was walking in my friend’s yard when my sandaled foot slipped on what I assumed was a wet stick. Startled, I cried out and my friend asked what happened. I told her I had thought maybe it was a snake, but it probably wasn’t. We had already walked several steps past the area but she rushed back and investigated the “stick” which proved to be a well-camouflaged snake. Thankfully, she sprang into action before he did and whacked him to death with a hoe.

I was stunned by how close I had come to danger, stepping on a snake with almost bare feet. I had even felt it move under my foot, but thought that was the effect of an overactive imagination. By some miracle, it did not strike me though I gave it motive, opportunity, and an open target. The incident stayed with me all day long and each time I thought of it, my heart raced. That little encounter had the potential for disaster, especially if the snake was really a copperhead which is how my friend identified it.

I felt God miraculously protected me. And the remainder of the day, my frequent thoughts of His protection and amazing grace brought me to tears. The episode led me from a terrifying encounter with danger to a close encounter with the Creator.  As a result, I spent quite a bit of time praising Him for His goodness and thanking Him for His love. The incident was a visceral reminder of another friend’s warning months ago to remain alert for the enemy’s tactics in my life. But it also presented an opportunity to draw close to God and to reflect on the truth of Psalm 46:1: “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.”

Momma Jean

When Mom was in nursing school, the students were addressed by their last name so she was simply called "Armstrong." Then when she married dad, she became Mrs. C. Michael Lovvorn. One of Dad’s favorite nicknames for Mom, Jeanie Bug, came from her dad. But one of Mom’s favorite names for herself was Momma Jean.

Mom always wanted lots of children, but was only able to have my sister and me. God’s plan included many more kids for Mom, though, starting with all the babies, toddlers and teens she cared for during her nursing career. Then there were all the children and teens she taught in Sunday School and discipleship training not to mention all mine and my sister’s friends. When Mom returned to college in her 40s, even a lot of her younger classmates called her “Momma Jean.”

With a generous spirit, a great sense of humor and a compassionate heart, Mom made the perfect surrogate mother for lots of folks in need of love, wisdom and guidance. She always “told it straight” but added kindness when she did so. And no matter her age or accomplishment, Mom never thought herself too dignified to sing pop songs as she sashayed down the grocery aisle, to chair dance in public, or to give you a playful wink at a secret the two of you shared.

She would play board games and charades with the church youth group, dance the hula with a bunch of giggly girls at a Christmas party and vogue for goofy family photos. At my sixteenth birthday party, she taught everybody the stroll and other dances from her youth. For mom, any day, not just holidays and birthdays, was an occasion for a party. She was the hip mom who knew teen slang, popular fashion and beauty trends, and all the high school gossip. Mom wasn’t in the know because she wanted to try to be cool; rather, she wanted to be engaged with us, to share every aspect of our lives. She made us laugh and cry and laugh until we cried. Often when I think of Mom, I am reminded of her exuberant spirit and unquenchable zest for life. I feel pretty confident the rest of her kids remember those things too.

Daddy's Love

Daddy loved sweet iced tea, lemonade and root beer. He loved Mom’s from-scratch cornbread and her semi-homemade cherry pie. He loved to travel and to tell us of all his adventures when he came home. He loved serving the Lord and His church. And he loved me.

Daddy never hung up the phone without telling me he loved me and even after I was a “grown woman,” he still answered my calls with either “Hi, Princess” or  “How’s my Baby Girl?” But he didn’t love me with words only. He showed his love time and time again through his thoughtful and kind actions. I remember the Christmas I was eight and Santa brought me a huge, swanky Barbie Dreamhouse filled with furniture; the only thing missing was a dining room hutch.

A couple of months later, Daddy came home from a business trip to Pennsylvania and nonchalantly presented me with the missing blue plastic cabinet. Even then I knew I had a special dad; he was a man who, while more than 700 miles from home, would search toy stores in a strange city until he found just what his daughter wanted, for the sole purpose of seeing the joy on her face when he gave it to her.

That wasn’t the first or last time Daddy did something like that. There was the Christmas he and mom surprised me with a second-hand French racing bike they had refurbished themselves. At my 16th birthday party, Daddy played photographer, making sure he snapped photos of the boy I had a crush on. For physics class, he helped me create a replica of one of his company’s machines and thanks to his guidance and hands-on help, I earned a perfect grade on the project. Besides all these things, when my sister and I were teenagers, Dad spent countless hours with Mom shopping for our clothes and never lost his patience. He repainted my bedroom furniture when I wanted a new look, took me to softball try-outs, and moved me back and forth to college several times each year.

Daddy was kind and patient and showed me his love in countless ways. I never had to doubt the depth of his love for me. Even after two years, I still miss Daddy tremendously. But I will never forget the lessons of love and faith he imparted to me through his actions, his words, and his example.

Christ is risen indeed!

“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade--kept in heaven for you . . .” (1 Peter 1:3-4)

Two days ago, before the Easter worship service began, I texted my friends this message: “He is risen.” After church I could hardly wait to see how many had replied, “He is risen, indeed!” The message ritual has been going on long before texting was invented, but technology allowed me to share a moment of worship and fellowship with friends in other parts of the city, other cities, and other states. The addition of the adverb “indeed” which means “without any doubt, truly, undeniably,” underscores each person’s individual affirmation of the truth of Jesus’ resurrection. And the Resurrection embodies the hope of the Christian life. In his song “Because He Lives,” Matt Maher sums up the idea in these two sentences: “I’m alive! I’m alive because He lives.”

Because Christ paid the penalty for our sins and defeated sin and death through His death and resurrection, we have the hope of everlasting life. But we also have hope for this life: hope for healing. Hope for reconciliation. Hope for mercy and forgiveness. Despite that hope, the bleakness of our circumstances or of those we love often tempts us to despair. In one of my favorite scenes from the miniseries Anne of Green Gables, Anne Shirley tells Marilla Cuthbert she is in the “depths of despair” and then asks Marilla if she has ever been there. In her clipped Canadian accent, Marilla offers a one-word reply, “No.” Anne presses her, asking, “Can’t you imagine you were in the depths of despair?” With a grim expression and tart tone, Marilla answers, “No, I cannot. To despair is to turn your back on God.” I pray when we become discouraged, and maybe even despondent, that we remember to return to the everlasting joy of Easter where we find all our hope in a cross, an empty tomb, and a resurrected Savior.

En garde

Recently, while getting ready for work, I noticed a big, hairy intruder strutting across my bathroom floor. I did not pause to shout, “En garde!” before I engaged him in a battle to the death. The steroid-fed spider resembled a brown recluse; evidence is inconclusive as I did not stop to inspect him before I ushered him into the afterlife. My first two blows dazed and angered him, but he still had a cocky swagger as he charged me. I whispered a prayer and pounced again. Thanks to a trusty tennis shoe and some good aim, I was victorious.

My healthy fear of spiders resulted from two previous bites, each of which landed me in the ER. But this sinister arachnid’s unwelcome presence in my home reminded me of something else: a friend’s recent warning to be alert and on guard, watching for the enemy. Her response was generated by a convo in which I shared that lately God had brought to my mind the Old Testament saint Nehemiah.

Through God’s miraculous favor, Nehemiah was allowed to leave his prestigious and pivotal role as King Cyrus of Persia’s cupbearer in order to return to Jerusalem and attempt to rebuild the city, particularly the city’s wall. Once there, he faced logistic problems, economic woes and taunts from his enemies. In response, Nehemiah prayed then stationed a guard, a watchman on the wall, whose job was to warn everyone of impending danger just as Peter warns us: “Stay alert! Watch out for your great enemy, the devil. He prowls around like a roaring lion, looking for someone to devour.” (1 Peter 5:8 NLT)

As work progressed, the Jews’ enemies continued to mock and ridicule them while the Enemy of their souls assailed them with doubt, confusion, and fear. The adversaries’ terror campaign escalated into a full-blown plot to kill the man of God. Nehemiah responded by posting guards in all of the wall’s gaps and encouraging the people with words of God’s strength and faithfulness. When caught in the enemy’s crosshairs, we would be wise to follow Nehemiah’s example: to pray first and then take practical measures to guard ourselves against the enemy’s devices by filling our hearts with God’s promises. Only then, through God's power, can we ruthlessly crush the enemy as I did that stealthy spider.

The Simple Life

“Tis a gift to be simple

Tis a gift to be free

Tis a gift to come down where we ought to be

And when we find ourselves in the place just right

Twill be in the valley of love and delight.” 

--Shaker hymn

A couple of weeks ago I stumbled onto a mash-up of two of my old-time favorite songs when I found “Over the Rainbow/ Simple Gifts” by The Piano Guys. The first song, of course, comes from the movie The Wizard of Oz. The second is a Shaker hymn which my mom and I used to sing together. The words of the hymn remind us to lead a simple life. For me, that means eliminating clutter, minimizing spending, and leaving time in a warp-speed life for rest and contemplation.

A simple life also holds the invitation for me to retain the childlike wonder God gives us to enjoy Him and His creation. To sing back to the birds who serenade me in the morning. To watch the clouds changing shapes against the backdrop of an infinite blue sky. To pause and admire the trees’ new spring wardrobe. And to spend time with a Creator who treasures me.

Albert Einstein is credited with saying: “There are two ways to live life: as if everything is a miracle or as if nothing is.” I choose the first. And in doing so, I think I am fulfilling Jesus’ proclamation that to enter His kingdom, you must come as a little child. A child empty of preconceived notions and agendas. A child filled with simple faith and awe at the beauty and majesty of God.

Link for The Piano Guys video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jzF_y039slk