Springtime - the Colorful Part

As I have said before, spring is my favorite season. However, within that season, there is a specific time which I always anticipate more than anything else about spring, and that time has come:

The trees are green again.

It always seems to catch me by surprise. One day I'm walking along, kicking through puddles and grinning and bits of green poking up in the garden, and then I look up and realize the trees are bursting with that sharp, bright new green of springtime.

Were I able to dance, I would do so every year when this happens. As is, I content myself with a whoop and a fist pump.

It's ridiculous, really.

Speaking of gardens, I am finally getting my own in place. The vegetable garden has yet to be established, and once it is we will be loading it with mature plants, like as not. However, Mom and Dad granted me my own "bit o' earth" in which I can cultivate a flower garden. Probably scattered with herbs, because they are my new obsession.

At the moment, I have a small 2x6 stretch of exposed earth with some grape vine cuttings and a couple canna bulbs. That stretch will probably get some more annuals set in. At the other end of the garden my new rose bush is in place with another canna in an old metal pot. Eventually I'll be setting up a spot for some peonies and hens-and-chicks, and I'd like to add more cottage style plants and the herbs throughout the season.

All of this I am doing with little more than my gloves, a trowel, a chicken, and a machete.

Yes. Machetes make great gardening tools. I pulled Dad's out of the garage, Wes sharpened it, and I'm using it to cut away the sod. Lobelia is my faithful gardening partner. She realized I was digging the other day and came over inquiring about worms. When she discovered there were also June bugs aplenty (eugh), she was ecstatic. (Note: chickens are also great for pest control.)

We pulled the chicks (did I mention we have about 30 more we got last month?) outside to get some fresh air, and I treated them to samplings of worms as well. If you want some cheap(ish) entertainment, get chickens. When they first taste worm.... Oh, it's hilarious. Our little bully Albert was always too slow and the girls would taunt him with their catch. He ended up standing in the middle of the pen screaming in hurt and indignation.

My weekend was full of fresh air and dirt and ant bites. On Friday, Mom took me with her on a run around town to check some yard sales, and we got a wheelbarrow. I am in the process of spray painting it sky blue. The girls like the color, though Mom and Dad are more skeptical. 

I also found a model ship that had been stored in the previous owner's tool shed. It's missing a couple sales and it's quite dusty, but for $7 you won't find me complaining.

So that's been my week. Well, that and we had Missions Revival last week. Always a wonderful time. It's one of my favorite annual events at church. The speaker was our missionary to the Philippines. He also spoke last year. The challenge was "serving as senders", and he spoke on how we as a church can support our missionaries in all aspects of their work, from furlough to the field and back.

Next on the list of church events is VBS. I pitched in last year and loved it, so I committed myself to returning this year. The theme will be more difficult than last year (which was Western): sports.

I'm not a sporty person. The best I manage is a leisurely jog. If only I could rent a fencing uniform.... Actually, I want to dig up something obscure or weird, like scuba diving or dressage. Regrettably, most uniforms are skin-tight or look ridiculous off-field. But that's half the fun, right?

So that's life at the moment. I should have more news to share in the next couple of days. The eggs Mom put in the incubator are starting to hatch. Their breeds are a complete mystery. We were hoping for some Barred Rock eggs, but we aren't really sure what we put in. I'm still hoping we don't end up with one whose father is Gerard or - horror of horrors - the late Presley or Aidan. Here's hoping.

The Definition of Happiness

Please note: the following post is long, confused, disorganized, and raw from my brain. I do apologize, but it's something I needed to say, and the best way I know how is to spew it straight from brain to screen.

Recently it was brought to my attention that I possess a crippling habit: list making.

I can't really be sure how this came about in my life. I used to abhor lists. Heather was always the one with the to-do list she was checking off. Maybe it was just the fact that I never seemed to accomplish as much as she did. Or perhaps she wasn't ever as detailed as I in list making. Where she put "clean room", I may have listed: "make bed, sort laundry, vacuum, etc". Who knows? I'll have to ask.

Anywho, at one time in the last couple of years I discovered the thrill of checking things off a list. Something about that tangible evidence that you accomplished something (even though you might be staring at the freshly scrubbed dishes or folded laundry, it's not the same unless you put a check mark next to that line). Hunger for that thrill developed into an obsession, and suddenly every aspect of my life went onto a list somewhere so I could proudly mark complete every visit to the bank; trip to the store to get ranch dressing (check), tissues (check), dog treats (check), flower pots (check), notebooks (crossed out because, turns out, I don't need another); and game prep completed for Wednesday classes.

I think it must have really started when I tried out that Day Zero Project back when I was sixteen or seventeen. At least in that case, it was all fun long-term goals I didn't really need to accomplish, but it was downhill from there.

Lately, I found that those lists were nothing more than a burden. They mocked me, especially when I forgot to turn off the notifications on the newly-discovered "Reminders" app of my phone: "walk your dog", "please put away that horrendous pile of laundry hiding your floor", "find time in your hectic schedule to tap out two or three hundred words so you don't fall behind", and on and on. Also, every Tuesday and Friday for the last couple of weeks, I've scribbled "BLOG!" on my daily list of things to do. Clearly I have a clear grasp of priorities. 

I also found I was relying on my notes for everything, particularly at work.

It hurts, guys. It's painful, like some terrible addiction I know I need to quit but can't bring myself to quit because it hurts. In her own subtle (or not-so-subtle) way, Mom intervened. (Love how I'm making this into a mock-drama of a drug addiction? You have no idea.) She casually remarked that, for goodness sake, I needed to quit writing notes for everything and just use my God-given (and God-ordained rather poor) memory like humans are intended to.

That's probably the most terrifying part: I'm so scatter-brained, without some sort of note to rein me in, I'm bound to forget something crucial at some point. But slowly I'm forcing myself to let go of that security blanket.

The lists are being reduced to taking notes from phone calls and to writing reminders for things I absolutely cannot forget at any cost (which turns out to be very little, really).

And now, I'm starting a new kind of list.

The idea started months ago, when one of the girls mentioned a challenge their youth group team leader had put to their group: every day, write something you're thankful for.

I have often found that I tend to focus on the negative side of life and don't stop to appreciate the bright side: I see the puddles and don't smell spring rain, which I love.

On the radio the other day, I heard something to the affect of "Instead of bashing the things you don't like, try promoting the things you do like". Which is something else I'm working on: not voicing rude things that come to mind when I'm in a bad mood, but smiling whenever I come across something that perked me up.

But back to that list: happiness.

When I force myself out of my own mental puddle and take a breath and a good look around, there are plenty of things that bring that smile to my face. My goal is to learn to appreciate those things rather than getting glum over their muddy counterparts.

Happiness is....

Sunshine

Fresh air

Home-cooked meals

When another driver lets me go first (unless, of course, their kindness results in me getting rammed into, but I've moved on)

Years ago, our youth pastor preached a message which has stayed with me. He talked about our personal levels of contentment, and I believe he used Philippians 4:11&12:

11) Not that I speak in respect of want: for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content. 12) I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound: every where and in all things I am instructed both to be full and to hungry, both to abound and to suffer need.

The idea was that we can choose how much good we require to be content with ourselves and our lives. We define our own level of contentment. If we can agree with ourselves that we can be content with three square meals, a comfortable house, and a car that runs, we will be happy when we have those things. Furthermore, anything about and beyond that measure will be received as a blessing.

On the other hand, if we convince ourselves that we will not be content until we have a car manufactured after the year 2000, a house with an extra bedroom, money to eat out more than once a month, and our favorite store's entire spring clothing line, we will probably never feel content even with the many things we do have.

I have learned to be content with the condition of my life: my poor beater car, our big drafty house, my amazing family, and a talent for making a meal out of practically anything. However, when it comes to the day-to-day circumstances, my personal happiness can flop like a broken pendulum every time someone walks by.

I have a hard time taking every throw in stride, both good and bad. It takes me a while to recover from a hard word, a mistake, or bad news. And yes, I am severely affected by the weather, and possible the lunar phases as well, but I am consciously working on that.

Last year something I dedicated a post to Philippians 4:5 (or at least I tried to, but looking back, that post was all over the place). Very often these days that verse comes to mind:

5) Let your moderation be known unto all men. The Lord is at hand. 6) Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God. 7) And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.

Brave the old post if you dare. In short, the idea is maintaining a steadfastness about your nature, not tossed back and forth from despair to joy as the wind changes; leaning on God, trusting Him with tomorrow (rather than borrowing its troubles today), and letting His peace reign.

Happiness is only part of the issue. Happiness is a temporal thing, measured and dictated by our current condition or circumstance, even when we struggle to be content with our lot. The real thing is joy. True joy is something only God can bring, and it is not defined by our outward condition. It's defined by our inward state and our identity in Christ.

I go back to Paul whenever this topic comes to mind. If you want to read about a man who took everything in stride, look at Paul. And after everything, when he stood before King Agrippa and was permitted to give an account of himself, this is what he said: "I think myself happy" (Acts 26:2).

He had suffered shipwrecks and stonings, betrayals and rejection, and now at last was brought as a prisoner before the king. Yet he found himself happy, because he was exactly where he wanted to be, with the king's full attention. Read Acts 26 sometime; Paul makes full use of the opportunity and lays out his testimony in full. Festus calls him a mad babbler, but Paul politely disagrees. He was confident in his work, knowing full well that he was right where he belonged and serving God to the best of his ability, and that was enough.

So maybe I don't have some "great calling" like Paul. I don't think I'd do too well with that sort of adventure right now, anyway. It's better that I bide my time, training myself to take every rude customer and bad day in stride and learn a lesson from each of them, the better to serve when the bigger opportunities rise.

Most of all, I'm learning to be content exactly where I am rather than longing for one more thing, dreaming of a bigger adventure, wasting my time wishing I was doing something else. I'm right where God needs me. I just have to be open for Him to use me in the ways I can't yet see.