Sunday morning ponderings about this, that and everything else . . .

 

In a quiet garden where birds and flowers abound
Speak gently and tread softly,
You walk on holy ground.
For unto every garden God cometh secretly
His presence there disclosing
To all with eyes to see . . . 

I am so enjoying all of the photographs of everyone's gardens that they are sharing on Instagram and their blogs.  I don't have much to share when it comes to mine alas. This has been very much a year of discovery  while I learn exactly what is in my garden. Then, perhaps next year, I will be able to share more as I put in plants of my own.

 

In late June and on into July, it is when our gardens are at their best.  Once August hits they begin to wane a bit, unless you have been a forward-thinking gardener and planted a garden which moves with the seasons.  That takes a bit of planning.

There are two ladies who live at the end of our street and they have a stunning garden.  She is British. I would expect no less.  The British are garden proud.  There is not a lot of land that most people can call their own over there, so people who have even the smallest patch do their best to make it beautiful. We were no different.

 

I have fond memories of our garden there. It was very much a labor of love and was filled to overflowing with flowers and soft fruits, fruit trees, etc.  I loved to watch the seasons through the eyes of my garden. It had a lot to tell.

It was the same when we were down South at the Manor living in the cottage, surrounded by Orchards. The Orchards told the seasons very well. I often looked down at them from my upstairs bedroom window. It was a beautiful spot from Spring on into Winter . . . 

 

Oh what joy was to be found in our pond.  It was filled with lily pads this time of year, and frogs. Baby frogs. The missionaries were always delighted by the baby frogs.  Looking back at this photograph I took one year of one sunning itself on a lily pad, I can almost hear the hum in the garden of the bees and the chatter of the sparrows that lived in our hedge.

Not all of it was bad.  In fact none of it was bad, until the very end . . . 

 

These babies were so tiny, and the whole miracle of them growing from spawn to frog was such an interesting journey to watch.  I can remember picking strawberries in our little patch one day and thinking that there were spiders, but it wasn't spiders, it was the baby frogs.

They were that tiny . . . . and then they would slowly grow larger . . . 

 

I thought they were quite magical.  Nature is magical.  The way it all flows, one season into another. You cannot hold it back. It does not stand still.  Much like our own lives.

They flow, one day after another, bringing whatever the days bring. We cannot control or hold them back either, as much as we may try.  Time marches on and waits for no man . . . 

 

The frogs would come back year after year to that same spot, even long after we had gotten rid of the pond. laying their spawn in every puddle that might lay in the back yard.  Instinctual . . . 

They did not realize I suppose that the pond was gone and were only following the hope of their hearts, the call of nature, even though it would all be for naught. But hope springs eternal, and where would any of us be without it.  We need it.  

Trust that God may have 

something different in mind for you,

Something better.

I have been re-reading Even This, by Emily Belle Freeman. Such a good, good book, and I am learning more this time around, taking more into my heart. I cannot recommend this book enough.

After this very difficult path I have had to traverse over these past six months, it is helping me to find God in all that has happened to me.  I trace every moment, every step and I can see Him, guiding, helping, showing me the way.  I can feel His presence in helping me to traverse what has been a very difficult time. I have walked through the Red Sea on dry land and gotten to the other side.  I have felt the injustice of things I didn't deserve, and felt the anguish.  Yet through it all I have been so very incredibly blessed.  I never want to forget this.  The knowing, the feeling . . . I am not, have never, and will never be truly alone.  Because I know that He is right there with me, every step of the way. 

 

There is a part of us when we are traversing the hard stuff that just wants to lay down and die, that may even want us to return to the things we know were wrong and not for us, just because they are familiar, and . . . wrong or not, we know them.  There is a comfort to be found in the familiar.  Change is hard and takes us into vulnerable places, uncomfortable places.  We face miracles, and then . . .  when the memory of the miracle fades, we can long for what we knew.  

One experience with God's goodness doesn't tie us to Him forever, especially when we can't see the end in sight.

I had those moments.  I have felt at times that it was better to go back to what I knew, to the bondage of the past.  As uncomfortable as it was.  Fear has a way of minimizing God's miracles. 

 

The only way to get over this . . .  to avoid back-tracking  . . .  is to be able to trace God's goodness through the journey.  And I can.  And I am grateful for that.  

 

I was up early this  morning, just in time to watch the church service back in the UK. It was nice, is always nice to see the familiar faces of people that I love.  I had thought today I might go to church here in person.  But in talking with my sister, I feel I will wait another few weeks, until the two week has passed from having had my second vaccine, just to make sure that all of my anti-bodies have kicked into action. It is the prudent way, so I will continue to watch it on YouTube this week and next, and then I can go.  I have not been to church in person for 17 months now.  That's a long time. It will be wonderful when I finally do attend.

Good news, my brother and his wife have booked to come down for a visit near the beginning of August!! It will be so good to see him, and I know my father will be happy to see him again.  I have not seen him in 8 years, not since we were both home for mom's cancer operation, and I have not seen his wife since 2002.  I am really looking forward to it.  They will only be here for a few days so it will be a bit of a flying visit. 

Doug and his family should have been coming over this next week for a church summer camp they go to as a family, but it has been canceled for the second year in a row.  And actually it is probably not very prudent for him to travel at this time while he is waiting for his operation to take place.  I pray daily that he will be okay and live a long and happy life, get to see his boys all grown up and to even see his grandchildren.  He says he is feeling better and he is looking better as well, which is good. I need to follow his cue and lose some weight. It is hard to do but not impossible.

And with that I best let you go and leave you with a thought for the day . . . 

° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •
•。★★ 。* 。
° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚
˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛
˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★
*.˛.In the garden I tend to drop
my thoughts here and there.
To the flowers I whisper the secrets
I keep and the hopes I breathe.
I know they are there to eavesdrop for the angels.
~Dodinsky~  •。★★ 。* 。•。★★ 。* 。 

In The English Kitchen today, Classic Date Squares.  I small batched my Aunt Orabelle's classic recipe to make only 8 bars for the smaller family. Every bit as buttery, oat filled and delicious as the original recipe however. 

Have a wonderful Sabbath Day. Its raining here again, but we need it.  Be blessed whatever you get up to. Don't forget! 

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And I do too!