The gift of remembrance

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“And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.’” Revelation 21:3-4

Each year when October comes around, Mom and I reflect on the fact that three of my four grandparents died during the last week of the month, in different years – 1965, 1966 and 1974 to be exact. Many years have passed, but I know my mom, now in her early 80’s, still misses her parents. Likewise, there are days when I long to talk to Ray, though it’s been 17 years since I last held his hand and shared the details of my day with him. And then I have several friends who are in the early stages of grief, having lost their much-loved spouses within the past few months. I assure them it will get better, that the pain won’t always be so raw, but I also tell them they won’t ever “get over” the loss. There will always be a tender spot, a place only the beloved can fill. Yet, would we want it any other way?

And so, to all those who are missing someone dear, no matter how long the separation has been, I offer up this quote from Dietrich Bonhoeffer. It eloquently describes how precious the memories are that link us to our departed loved ones until the day when we’re finally reunited:

“Nothing can make up for the absence of someone we love . . . it is nonsense to say that God fills the gap; God doesn’t fill it, but on the contrary, God keeps it empty and so helps us keep alive our former communion with each other, even at the cost of pain . . . the dearer and richer the memories, the more difficult the separation. But gratitude changes the pangs of memory into tranquil joy. The beauties of the past are borne, not as a thorn in the flesh, but as a precious gift in themselves.”

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Very Hungry Caterpillars

/ Patsy Kuipers / 1 Comment

“The caterpillar ate through one nice green leaf, and after that he felt much better.”
Eric Carle

Getting to study horticulture the past three years has given me the opportunity to be introduced to lots of interesting new (to me) plants. Passiflora incarnata is one such plant. One of its common names, passion flower, alludes to the fact that some of the components of its wonderfully complex flowers have been likened to various aspects of the passion of Christ. According to the Floridata website, “The name, Passiflora or ‘passion flower’, was given by 16th century Spanish missionaries in South America who thought they saw a reference to the Crucifixion of Christ in the elaborate flower structures: the corona, sitting at the top of the flower, is the crown of thorns; the five anthers are the five wounds; the three styles are the three nails; and the five petals and five sepals are the apostles, less Judas and Peter.” (The two apostles who betrayed Jesus – Judas to the utmost and Peter only temporarily.)Passiflora incarnata

 

I decided the stunning flowers would make a lovely addition to my garden and planted a small vine next to my mailbox. I watched as the vine grew, wrapping tiny tendrils around support stakes as it went. I searched daily for buds, which finally appeared. Sadly, for some enigmatic reason, all but two failed to produce the much anticipated and hoped-for flowers. Instead, my Passiflora produced a bounty of a different kind . . .

In addition to the beautiful flowers, I learned Passiflora serves as a host plant for the larva of the Gulf fritillary, a lovely bright orange butterfly with black markings. The Gulf fritillary is so-named because of its migration across the Gulf of Mexico. Sure enough, one morning when I went out to get my newspaper, I spied the first of what would be several waves of caterpillars to feast on my vine. Although the orange caterpillars don’t sting, they have rows of soft black spines. The black and orange stripes warn potential predators of their toxicity and so, even though my little crop of caterpillars was munching away in plain view, the birds left them alone to eat and grow. And eat and grow some more!An early caterpillar

I delighted in watching the caterpillars, checking on them every morning when I went to retrieve my newspaper and every afternoon when I went to the mailbox. Then one afternoon they were all gone. The first group, in its entirety, had disappeared in the four hours or so between my two daily treks down the driveway. Search as I might over the next few days, I couldn’t find any of the chrysalises. Soon more tiny but ravenous caterpillars appeared and started munching their way through the remaining leaves.A late catepillar

Noticing the bedraggled appearance of my vine, a well-meaning friend asked what I was planning to use to “take care of” the voracious intruders. I explained that the caterpillars would turn into butterflies and I was willing to sacrifice my plant so they could complete their life cycle. As a matter of fact, I was rather in awe of the ability of the mother butterflies to find my vine in the first place. It was small (and getting smaller every day), the only Passiflora on my property and possibly the only one for miles around. Yet because of the innate capability God instilled in them, the fritillaries found, and deposited their eggs on, the only genus of plant their caterpillars feed on. After some more cycles of hatching and eating, there were no more leaves (or buds) left on the vine and the subsequent generations were left to eat the stem. As I watched them gnawing away, I could only imagine that the stem was much tougher than the tender leaves.

With each successive hatching, there were fewer and fewer caterpillars, probably due to the dwindling food supply. The last hatching yielded only one caterpillar. I checked on him from time to time as I worked in my garden last Saturday afternoon, watching as he valiantly stripped and then ate the outer, green layer of the vine. A couple of days before I noticed a Passiflora seedling had sprouted not too far from the mother plant. After some deliberation, I decided to gently remove the solitary caterpillar from the leafless vine and place him on the seedling, which already had several leaves. I held my breath as I watched him crawl down the short stem of the seedling, hoping I hadn’t confused him when I disrupted his resolute consumption of the tough vine. Fortunately, my fears were unfounded. After a few seconds of exploration he settled in at the base of one of the leaves and resumed eating. I continued to check on him throughout the afternoon, content to see him making headway on the tender leaf.

A tasty last mealThe next morning, when I looked at the seedling, there were two half-eaten leaves but no sign of the caterpillar. I smiled, hoping the leaves had provided a tasty last meal for him before he crawled off to spin his chrysalis.

Over the past month, I’ve seen a number of Gulf fritillaries fluttering about in my garden, no doubt the result of some of the caterpillars I took such joy in watching eat and grow. It was worth sacrificing my Passiflora although knowing how that particular vine can spread around and having already found several more seedlings, I’m hoping next year there will be enough to feed a passel of hungry caterpillars AND provide some exotic flowers for me to enjoy!

As I considered how the Gulf fritillaries faithfully laid their eggs on the right plant, thereby providing the proper food for their offspring, I was reminded that God has provided his Word, both written and in the flesh, to nourish us spiritually. Jesus quoted the Old Testament when he resisted Satan’s temptation to “turn stones into bread” so He could satisfy his hunger after forty days and nights in the wilderness, saying, “Man does not live by bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God”. (Matthew 4:4) Later in his ministry, He referred to himself as the “true bread from heaven”, saying, “I am the bread of life. He who comes to me will never go hungry, and he who believes in me will never be thirsty.” (John 6:35)

My thoughts also turned to the very hungry caterpillar in the beloved children’s book of the same name by Eric Carle. For the first six days of his existence, the storybook caterpillar ate everything that appealed to him, eventually giving himself a stomach ache. It wasn’t until day seven, when he “ate through one nice green leaf” that he felt better. Like the caterpillar in Carle’s book, we are tempted to feed on many things other than the spiritual nourishment God has provided and, similarly, we often find those things to be poor substitutes for the sustenance we need and crave. Instead, may we be as single-minded as the determined Gulf fritillary caterpillars to seek out and consume our designated food, being fully satisfied by the sufficiency of the Word. Gulf fritillary butterfly

This is my Father’s world

/ Patsy Kuipers / 5 Comments

“This is my Father’s world, and to my listening ears.
All nature sings, and round me rings, the music of the spheres.
This is my Father’s world; I rest me in the thought
Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas – His hand the wonders wrought.

This is my Father’s world, the birds their carols raise,
The morning light, the lily white, declare their Maker’s praise.
This is my Father’s world: He shines in all that’s fair;
In the rustling grass I hear Him pass, He speaks to me everywhere.”
(Lyrics by Maltbie D. Babcock)

There was a hint of fall in the air, as cooler temperatures, lower humidity and a gentle breeze graced this lovely day. I spent way too much time inside this past week so it was easy to acquiesce to the desire to head outside. Besides, I needed some garden therapy. As I mentioned when I first launched this blog, God often ministers to me through the beauty of his creation. And so it was today as I listened to the twittering of the birds (the original “twitterers”!), felt the warmth of the sun and heard the laughter of the neighbors’ children as they exulted over numerous butterflies flitting around the cul de sac.

After mowing, edging and weeding, I engaged in a tradition my late husband, Ray, and I started years ago. I “walked the property”. Now I must tell you, my property consists of a whopping 1/3 acre in a subdivision, but I take great delight in strolling this small piece of land God has entrusted to my care, seeking out the gifts He leaves for me to find. Not only am I aware of God’s presence, but I feel a connection to Ray as many things he planted continue to flourish. And I sense the love of friends who’ve helped me care for and add to my garden since Ray’s passing. Yes, in spite of its diminutive size relative to more renowned botanical wonderlands, my tiny estate brings me great joy.

Following is a photo gallery of some of the treasures I discovered today. I hope seeing them will bring a smile to your face as they did to mine. And may we say with the writer of I Chronicles, “Great is the LORD and most worthy of praise.”

 

One of my favorite fall-blooming perennials, this Japanese anemone (Anemone hupehensis var. japonica) is doubling as a lovely decoration my paperbark maple (Acer griseum), which in turn is providing a support for its flower and bud-laden stems.
Blooming twice a year, Encore(R) azaleas can add color to fall gardens.
White rain lily
The decorative seed pods of Euonymus americanus (American euonymus) give rise to one of the plant’s more endearing common names, “Hearts-a-bustin'”.
Like many hydrangeas, Oakleaf hydrangea (Hydrangea quercifolia) ‘Snowflake’ bears inflorescences that age beautifully, changing color and providing interest across a number of weeks.
The small but exotic blooms of Tricyrtis hirta (toad lily) are worthy of up-close admiration.
Another tiny woodland gem, hardy cyclamen (Cyclamen hederifolium), has dainty flowers that appear late summer/early fall.

 

 

From the lips of children

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One recent morning, I was feeling a bit down. When I logged onto Facebook, the first thing I saw was a post by my daughter, Mary. Upon waking, my grandson, Joshua, had launched into a chorus of “My God is so big, so strong and so mighty, there’s nothing my God cannot do!” It was the encouragement I needed, a reminder of truth. And it was sung by a 3-year old exhibiting the child-like faith Jesus not only commended but commanded.

If we are steadfast in bringing our children up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord (Ephesians 6:4) their faith will be a blessing not only to them, but also to us and to others, just like Joshua’s chorus was to me.

So, I say as the apostle John did of his spiritual offspring, “I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth” . . . grandchildren too! (3 John 1:4)

Family Resemblance

/ Patsy Kuipers / 3 Comments

How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God!  And that is what we are! 1 John 3:1

Before I got the opportunity to study horticulture, I would look at leaves when trying to identify trees.  Even then I was only familiar with the leaf shapes traditionally associated with plants such as oaks, maples and hollies. I now realize there are many different species in those genera, some with leaf shapes people typically associate with those trees and some fairly dissimilar.  I’ve also learned that even though botanists consider leaves and stems when classifying plants, they use fruit and flowers, the reproductive parts of plants, to group them into families. I don’t know if it’s my eye for detail or my love of family, (maybe some of both!) but I enjoy recognizing similarities in the flower structures of different plants and then checking to see if they’re in the same family.

Just like plants can be identified by their fruit, Jesus told his disciples people would be known by their fruit. Because of the amazing grace of God and Jesus’s sacrifice on our behalf, we’re part of God’s family and, as such, we’re called to resemble Jesus, “the firstborn among many brothers”. (Romans 8:29) Fortunately, we are enabled to become more and more like him through the power of the Spirit, whose fruit is “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.” (Galatians 5:22-23)

Not only are we called on to “produce fruit in keeping with repentance” (Matthew 3:8), we’re instructed to impress God’s commands on our children. “Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up” (Deuteronomy 6:7). In other words, telling our children about God, his directives, his covenant and his character should be woven into the daily ebb and flow of life, not just reserved for Sunday school, and we must endeavor to teach by example, not just words.

As is probably true of most parents, when my daughters were young, I used to wish they’d always be as happy and carefree as they were during those pre-school years. At the very least, I yearned to protect them from adversity and pain. I have similar feelings now when I look at my precious grandchildren. Yet I know life can be difficult and no one makes it through without some measure of grief, disappointment, and hardship. But God, in his providence, often uses our most trying times to draw us closer to himself, teaching us experientially that we can trust him no matter what. And that, in turn, is what I most want my children and grandchildren to know. There is a Father who loves us. There is a Son who we are to resemble. There is a world in great need of the fruit we’re called to bear.

In a moment, take 2

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“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build,  a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.” Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

The last few months have brought several life-changing moments that, in turn, have led to times shaded by weeping and mourning for me and people close to me. Yet I know there will be times when laughter and dancing predominate again and so I want to reflect upon some past moments which led to great joy.

One such moment occurred on Thanksgiving Day, 2010. Our extended family was sitting around the table, chatting amiably, having enjoyed a delicious meal of smoked turkey and our favorite side dishes. My daughter, Mary, said she and my son-in-law, Justin, had news to share. My heart leapt! Could it be the announcement of an impending birth? Sure enough, Mary passed around an ultrasound photo and confirmed we could look forward to the arrival of a new family member the following July. At that point, Baby was roughly the size of a blueberry, but my eyes still welled up with happy tears knowing there was a new person to love.

The weeks passed and sometime toward the end of January, I got a phone call from Mary and Justin letting me know Baby was a boy.  Later that evening, Mary texted, “We’re going to name him Joshua Patrick.” In that instant, I fell in love with him! Not that I hadn’t been happily anticipating his advent since first peering at the ultrasound photo and trying to figure out exactly where the baby was, but now I knew who I was waiting for and my heart prepared a place for him. Little did I know then how much joy and love Joshua would add to my life or that I would lose my job a few days after receiving Mary’s text, making it possible to spend time with him on a regular basis and bond with him in a way I wouldn’t have been able to if I’d been employed full-time. He became my study buddy from his earliest days, sitting in his little seat by the table while I reviewed notes for plant ID classes and watching intently from his stroller as I collected weed specimens for my pest notebook when we went for walks.

Fast forward to April 20th, 2013 and another family gathering, my dad’s birthday celebration. It, too, would be punctuated by a joyful moment, as Mary and Justin informed us we could anticipate a very special Christmas present – another new family member! This time however, instead of thinking of the baby in gender-neutral terms, I consistently thought of “her” from the start. My premonition was confirmed at Joshua’s birthday party in July when Mary announced Baby was indeed a girl. I was glad Mary had shared the selected name a few days before the party – “IF it’s a girl, Mom, we plan to name her Lyla Ray in memory of Dad” – since even typing that sentence now causes bittersweet tears to spring to my eyes. Similar tears of joy mingled with sorrow flowed when I first held Lyla and longed for her grandfather to be there to cuddle her too.

Today Joshua is a boisterous, intelligent 3-year old with an amazing vocabulary. He assigns me roles in his elaborate make-believe scenarios and warms my heart with detailed recounting of his Sunday school lessons. Lyla is an eight-month old bundle of smiles and determination, happily exploring her world and delighting me with tiny hands that reach for me when I liberate her from her crib after nap time or bend to steady her as she pulls herself up.

Amidst the sorrows and losses of this life, God blesses us with life-changing moments of joy as well as tender occasions that give us glimpses of what we not only long for but are assured of because of another birth announcement 2000 years ago:  “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord.” (Luke 2:10-11) That baby grew to be a man of sorrows who was familiar with suffering. He took our flesh upon himself. He understands how hard this life can be and encouraged his followers, saying,“In this world you will have trouble. But be of good cheer! I have overcome the world.” Furthermore, He’s promised to never leave us or forsake us and even now He’s preparing a place for us where there will be no more loss or pain or grief. And so I treasure the moments of joy and love and tenderness we’re allowed to experience here. They remind me of the time when every tear will be wiped away and we will rejoice forever in the presence of the One who loves us more than we can imagine.

In a moment

/ Patsy Kuipers / 1 Comment

“In a moment things can change. One look behind and it’s never the same.” These words from the song “All Kinds of People” by Susan Ashton are simple yet profound. I’ve had moments in my life that were truly life-changing; moments that caused me to quote the lyrics from this song; moments like the one seventeen years ago when I was told my husband was no longer alive . . .

It was April 19, 1997. We were having an early spring and the warmer-than-usual weather had my young daughters, Mary, 10, and Jessie, 7, clamoring for new swim suits. Even though I knew we’d  likely  have another cold snap or two before the warm weather settled in for good, I agreed to take them shopping. My husband, Ray, department head of inside gardening at a local Home Depot store, was scheduled to work from 1pm to 10pm so, after we finished lunch, we headed off to the mall. Several hours later, having acquired the swim suits (and most likely some other new clothes), stopping for dinner and picking up bread and milk, we were on our way back home. Picking up bread and milk may seem like a terribly trivial thing to remember after so many years, but Ray would often stop on his way home from work to pick up any essentials we were lacking. He took good care of his girls – all three of us – so I was looking forward to surprising him with the news he could come straight home that night.

Strong thunderstorms moved into the area as we made our way home.  When we arrived we went directly upstairs to watch the “Local on the 8’s” on the Weather Channel to make sure no tornados were headed our way. Our focus on the weather resulted in us bypassing the answering machine which held multiple messages from someone named Chris from Kennestone Hospital. We hadn’t been home five minutes when the phone rang. It was Chris, calling again from the emergency room to tell me Ray had been taken there from work and asking if I had anyone who could bring me to the hospital. I assured her I could drive myself and asked what was wrong. She wouldn’t give me any details, just asked me to get there as soon as possible.  It wasn’t until I was half-way there that I realized her asking if someone could bring me probably wasn’t a good sign. I prayed all the way to the hospital, fervently hoping Ray wasn’t dead and attempting to console Mary and Jessie who were trying to be brave, but were terribly concerned about their much-loved father.

When we reached the hospital, Chris, the patient care specialist, met us in the emergency area and led us to a private room. As we walked down the corridor, she calmly asked me questions: Did Ray have a history of heart problems?; Was he on any medications?; Was he under a doctor’s care? Her composure and questions renewed my hope that Ray was, indeed, alive. When we got to the room, she told me the doctor would be in to talk to me. I asked tentatively, “Can’t you at least tell me if he’s alive?” She paused, oh so briefly, before saying, “I’m sorry, honey, he isn’t.” A massive heart attack had felled my life partner a little over two months after his 39th birthday. And with that, my life changed forever. I cried out, “God, no!” and sank to the sofa as Mary and Jessie dissolved into tears of their own, all of us incredulous. Hadn’t we seen our beloved husband and father a few short hours before, alive and well? He just went to work. How could it be he’d never return to us?

Then, just as suddenly, it was as if a giant door slammed shut. I couldn’t take the news in all at once or it would have crushed me. Instead the truth gradually penetrated my soul, drop by drop, over a period of weeks and months as I was able to accept it.

Yet somehow I had to deal with the unwanted reality that had been thrust upon me. There were immediate needs to be tended to: phone calls to family members and our pastor, decisions regarding the visitation and funeral services, picking a final resting place. Details of that week are burned into my memory: being surrounded by family and friends; being upheld by prayers so ardent they were tangible; speaking at Ray’s funeral; saying a final goodbye to him in a little cemetery in North Carolina.

It was a time of great sorrow, yet I felt the love and concern of so many who comforted and helped out in very practical ways. Some provided lodging for out-of-town relatives; others prepared and served lunch after the funeral. Our children’s minister took Mary and Jessie to Wednesday night activities at church so they could have a bit of normalcy amidst the upheaval. Then there was the friend who arrived the day after Ray’s death and quietly asked if I’d contacted a funeral home yet. When I, still in a mild state of shock, replied “No”, he spent the next couple of hours calling funeral homes for me and gathering necessary information.

Through the turmoil, grief, and tears, God was my refuge and strength.  He was my ever present help that week and has remained so to this day. I’ve said many times since Ray’s all-too-soon-for-me death,  had there been a sign-up sheet at church with the heading “Get to Know God Better by Losing Your Husband”, I never would have put my name on the list, but God, in His providence, saw fit to do so. I can testify to the fact He’s been a defender of this widow and a Father to my fatherless girls, faithfully providing and protecting, all the years we’ve been without our earthly husband and father.

There have been other life-changing moments since, one fairly recent, though none has been as devastating as the one when I learned of Ray’s death.  Each time I’ve gone back to the garden for solace. I know I’ll find my loving Father there, for He’s promised to never leave me or forsake me.

Thoughts on Romans 8:32

/ Patsy Kuipers / 1 Comment

“He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things?” Romans 8:32

Commenting on this verse in his book “Future Grace”, pages 112-113 and 114 (Multnomah Press, 2012), John Piper says:

“He did not spare his Son.  And therefore it is impossible that he should spare us the promise for which the Son died — he will with him give us all things.  What a truth!  Giving us all things is the easy thing! Think on that every time you fear being denied something that would be good for you.  You think it is a hard thing.  You see many obstacles.  It looks impossible.  At that discouraging moment think about his heavenly logic.  Giving you what you need is the easy part.  And the hard part is already done.  Creating the world and running it for the good of his people is a relatively easy thing for God to do compared to handing over his Son to ridicule and torture.  But he did it.  And now all future grace is not only sure; it is easy . . . The great promise of future grace, guaranteed in the logic of Romans 8:32, is that nothing will ever enter your experience as God’s child that, by God’s sovereign grace, will not turn out to be a benefit to you.  This is what it means for God to be God, and for God to be for you, and for God to freely give you all things with Christ.”

And Susannah Spurgeon in a compilation of her devotions, “Free Grace and Dying Love”, page 3 (The Banner of Truth Trust, 2006), writes:

“‘He that spared not his own Son.’  He gave his most precious treasure; could he withhold any lesser good from you?  He has given you pounds; will he refuse you pence? . . . ‘How shall he not with him also freely give us all things?’  Think well my heart, what ‘all things’ mean to you! . . . All spiritual blessings, rich and precious, are laid up for you in this divine storehouse . . . There is not a need or desire of your inner life which cannot be triumphantly met by faith’s unwavering challenge, ‘How shall he not?’  Nor is there a necessity of your temporal state which cannot equally claim the blessing of possessing ‘all things’ in Christ.”

My heart is heavy this morning and in need of reassurance.  These quotes remind me that nothing is impossible for God, nor will He withhold any good or necessary thing from me. Therefore, it seems reasonable to conclude if He is withholding something it must not be best or needful, at least not at this moment in my life.

Over the years, God has given me glimpses of his truth in some rather mundane situations. As I typed the last couple of sentences, one such episode came to mind. I’d been to the store and was putting the purchased provisions away. More specifically, at the moment this particular insight came, I was placing packages of toilet paper in my young daughters’ bathroom closet – can’t get much more mundane than that! I thought, “Mary and Jessie don’t have to worry about having things available when they need them. I make sure whatever they need is on hand.” And then I realized, “I don’t have to worry either. Everything I’ll ever need is already in God’s ‘closet’ and He’ll make it available as needed.” Furthermore, if I, as a finite, imperfect human parent know how to give good gifts to my children, I can certainly count on my perfect, infinite heavenly Father to give good gifts to me. (Matthew 7:11 and Luke 11:13)

And so, with the Psalmist, I’ll say, “Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.” (Psalm 42:11)

What about the little things?

/ Patsy Kuipers / 2 Comments

Losing a job is a BIG deal, but what about smaller events, details that matter to me, yet are miniscule in the overall scheme of life? I’ve had countless reminders God cares about those too . . . like the presumed demise of my prized trillium.

Two years ago, some friends came over to assist with yard work. Things had gotten ahead of me, to say the least, so the extra help was greatly appreciated. I tried to supervise the various activities as my helpers diligently labored on their assigned tasks. Nevertheless, there was too much going on for me to keep track of everyone and, in spite of good intentions, a few things were damaged. During my post-work session walkaround, I was especially dismayed to find no sign of my trillium, a cherished wild flower salvaged years before during a plant rescue. One of the fellows used a leaf blower to clear several of the beds, not realizing my spring ephemerals, including the trillium, were too fragile to be subjected to the gale force winds created by that piece of equipment. Not only was I heart broken, I’d have to wait until the following year to see if it would come back.

Exhibiting one of my favorite characteristics of plants, perseverance, the trillium did indeed return the next spring, even bigger and more beautiful than before. However, imagine my surprise and delight this year when not only did the mama trillium reappear, but a number of babies came up in the woods. The most logical explanation for the presence of those new trilliums, located below and many feet from the mother plant?: “seed dispersion by leaf blower”! Once again, God took something I thought was a loss and turned it into a gift, a cause for joy and celebration.

I know Almighty God will handle the big things. After all, He raised Jesus from the dead, makes the sun rise and set and holds all things together. Yet this all-powerful God sees me, loves me and repeatedly stoops to bless me in tiny, intimate ways. Each time He does so, I’m humbled and amazed that Almighty God is also Abba, Father, “Daddy”.

John Piper’s Thoughts on Romans 8:28

/ Patsy Kuipers / 3 Comments

From time to time, I’ll share some of my favorite quotes, especially ones that relate to my posts. Here’s one I particularly like from John Piper regarding Romans 8:28. It appears on pages 118-119 of his book “Future Grace”. (Multnomah Books, 2012)

“When it comes to the architecture of future grace and the buildings we call the promises of God, Romans 8:28 shares the tribute of being one of the two or three greatest. This structure is staggering in its size. The infinitely wise, infinitely powerful God pledges that in this building, future grace will make everything beneficial to his people!  Not just nice things, but horrible things too – like tribulation and distress and peril and famine and sword (Romans 8:35-37)  Once you walk through the door of love into the massive, unshakable structure of Romans 8:28, everything changes.  There come into your life stability and depth and freedom.  You simply can’t be blown over anymore.  The confidence that a sovereign God governs for your good all the pain and all the pleasure that you will ever experience is an incomparable refuge and security and hope and power in your life.  When God’s people really live by the future grace of Romans 8:28 – from measles to the mortuary – they are the freest and strongest and most generous people in the world.”