A Post to Ponder

I've been pondering lately.

Ponder: (according to thefreedictionary.com)

To reflect or consider with thoroughness and care (preferably by a pond according to me).

As I garden, I think about things. About people, about what to make for supper, about my favorite songs, about work, about dreams, about my do-to list, about the stuff of life. I garden, therefore I ponder. 

Sometimes at the end of the day, as dusk descends like a soft blanket, I walk through the yard and the various gardens to review what I've accomplished that day or just to see how my garden grows. I make plans for my next day in the garden. Sometimes Leo walks with me. Just like Adam and Eve we are, except for the lack of clothing part. We've got that covered, literally. 

The other evening, as we meandered through the little woods between the house and fields, we came across an unexpected bloom. 

It looked like a discarded shrub, tossed in the woods without any hope. But yet, there it was, not even planted in any kind of proper fashion, it's roots still molded in the shape of a pot no longer in existence. A laurel, strutting her stuff, alive in spite of whatever anyone else thought. 

I could learn a lot from her. 

On one of these evening walks, we also paused to look at a snowball bush, planted two years ago. Mostly bare sticks, there was this one lonely limb clinging to life. Tenacious, stubborn, determined. 

 I could learn a lot from her. 

Life gets exhausting sometimes. I can let it beat me into the ground until I am nothing but a pile of dry sticks, or I can cling to whatever flicker of joy, whatever spark of hope there is and keep on living the life God gave me.

I can keep my arms crossed, my head down, closed off to everyone and everything around me.
Or, I can spread my arms, fingers outstretched to catch the rain, lifting my face towards the sun, soaking in the warmth as it renews and restores.

As I wander, I ponder and I wonder. The evening stars come out, first just one, then many rivaling the lightning bugs with their twinkles. The moon, nearly full, shines on a landscape now shadowy and dim. Beautiful even though all around it is dark. I could learn a lot from them.

Isaiah 58 has a much to say, much I need to learn, much I need to do. But the promises that are there? So worth it. Take time to read the whole chapter. A challenge. A journey. Something to ponder.


8 Then your light will break forth like the dawn,
    and your healing will quickly appear;
then your righteousness[a] will go before you,
    and the glory of the Lord will be your rear guard.
9 Then you will call, and the Lord will answer;
    you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I.
“If you do away with the yoke of oppression,
    with the pointing finger and malicious talk,
10 and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry
    and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,
then your light will rise in the darkness,
    and your night will become like the noonday.
11 The Lord will guide you always;
    he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land
    and will strengthen your frame.
You will be like a well-watered garden,
    like a spring whose waters never fail.


Love,
Dianne