Love the G’s

For us, summer officially began May 31 when our youngest granddaughter flew from San Diego with her parents to meet our extended family and several friends. The weather cooperated (Praise God!) and everyone seemed to enjoy our backyard party.

But since then, weather-dependent G’s—gardening and golf—have dominated our lives—a good thing depending upon the humidity and scores.Al and I divide the outdoor work with him mowing and watering the lawn and me planting, weeding, and fiddling with the flowers and vegetables. It works!

Hoosier Zinnias from Shirley Toney’s seeds

New this year I planted miniature and Hoosier zinnias, which for me, is a huge act of faith. Germination when I sow seems to be betting against the odds. But they came up. The butterflies love them, and their bouquets aren’t too shabby either.

Hibiscus from my front landscaping

Bravely I divided one of my front landscaping’s crown jewels, fuchsia hibiscus, to give to my neighbor Mary. She reciprocated, sharing Painters Pallet that is perfect for the small space near our garage. Another gardening guru Jan Ritter gifted me bee balm plants that added to the pollinator’s paradise. I traded her hosta.

Painters Palette from Mary Lasley

Summer indeed is fun! Especially when I can look out my front window and see my transplants thriving in Mary’s yard.

Mary’s new landscaping across the circle

Granddaughters, Gardening, Golf! And most importantly, GOD! I love the G’s in my life.

A Big Deal

Last week I did something while golfing I’ve never done before and probably will never do again. I shot a hole in one. But it wasn’t scored that way. Fetching my go-to club, a seven iron, I took a slow swing that ended with my favorite Volvik ball bouncing into the pond in front of Otte Golf Course’s sixth hole. I hadn’t done that for awhile. Tragically I lost a distinctive, but used ball.

Against PGA rules and protocol, I quickly called a mulligan and hit another ball, a light pink Lady Hagan with the breast cancer ribbon, which is now encased on my desk. This season all of my pink golf balls are salvaged, patiently waiting in tall grass for my husband and his golf buddies when playing longer courses to retrieve for me.

Determined to be better the second time around, I hit it solidly, saw it land near the flag, and then watched as it disappeared. “Did what I think happen, Mary Lou?” She nodded. “I’ve never ridden with anyone who has done that!”

Waltzing over to the other cart with longtime friends and golf buddies Janey and Mary, I began to jump up and down. “Joyce, its score is 3,” Janey said. Still it was worth a photo.

After my heart quit racing and a few hours passed, I began to think about this mountaintop moment. In the big scheme of life, hitting a small ball into a hole 70 yards out isn’t that big a deal. What is a big deal is that we keep trying to become better.

Even though He may not be checking our golf score, God expects us to be people who persevere.

Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.  James 1:4, NIV

Winter Weary?

My writing place, a roll top maple desk inherited from my father, sits by the window in our front room. There I sit on a bright blue 55cm performance ball whose goal is to strengthen my core. The reality is that it’s great for bouncing. Many days that’s all I do there, bounce, check email and stare out the window.

The past few days the sun’s been out, hinting that spring may actually happen. However, the outdoor thermometer reader on my desk indicates, “Not today.” Our temperature? 16.1

In Central Indiana we’re still waiting for spring, aren’t we?

Actually we spend much of our time waiting, whether it’s for a sunny day, a check in the mail, the next available customer service representative, or for a red light to change. 

Yesterday I stood at a local pharmacy waiting while four behind-the-counter folks ignored me. All I needed was to pick up a z-pack of antibiotics that their text had indicated was ready. Being the godly woman that I am, I said nothing snarky while there, but when I walked into our kitchen a few minutes later, my husband Al was privileged to hear my ranting.

Waiting wears us out, doesn’t it? Have you ever considered God understands this and maybe even feels this same way at times? He would have every right to tire of waiting for us to get our act together.  Or for us to repent, acknowledge, and trust Him to carry our burdens.

God is good at waiting. Let’s join Him.

He gives strength to the weary and strengthens the powerless.
Youths may faint and grow weary, and young men stumble and fall,
but those who trust in the Lord will renew their strength;
they will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary;
they will walk and not faint.

Isaiah 40:29-31, HCSB