Open



I got the children off to school this morning and the little ones immediately ran upstairs to play upon returning.  I was left in a quiet room with a heart that didn’t feel quiet.

I felt drawn outside for an early morning visit with my flowers.  I’ve neglected them lately as the push and pull of “urgent” things has swept back into our lives.

This zinnia caught my eye.


It wasn’t the largest, or the showiest, or the most white.  It wasn’t even the prettiest.  But it’s shape made me think.


It is open.  Reaching for the sun.  Like a dainty teacup it sits ready to catch any drops of water that might land within its petals.  It’s fully open, the tips of the white petals curling back, reaching, ready, risking.  Its stem is tall and straight, thrusting the flower as high as it can reach.

Do I have courage to live this way?  Are there areas in which I’m holding back?  Am I open, reaching, ready?


It takes faith to open our hearts like this zinnia has opened its petals.  It takes faith to live with open hearts, submitting to all that God thrusts upon us.  Sometimes the sunlight and rain come gently.  Sometimes it scorches or downpours.  But a flower’s full beauty comes when it’s open.  I have a feeling life’s full beauty (and mine as an individual) comes the same way.

This was a precious reminder for me this morning, a tutoring moment.  I have all these mixed up feelings inside.  I need to be still and open my heart to what the Lord has in store for me.  I must trust that it is wonderful.  I must stand tall and straight, open and ready, reaching toward the Light of the World and thirsting for the Living Water.

Like this red dahlia, when we’re open we catch the water.  And our souls may be like watered gardens.


Jennifer

A Year of Habits, no. 33



The house is supposed to be quiet right now.  Tomorrow is the first day of school for four of my children.  I know they’re tired; if they’d just hold still long enough they’d all fall asleep within two minutes.   Instead I hear muffled voices and the padding of feet in the hallway.  Funny how you don’t fall asleep when you’re sneaking around.   My heart is full but I must be brief.  Moms need a good night’s rest before the first day of school too.

I hardly know what to say.  There are so many little things about the week.  Another soccer tournament, a sweet dance class two of my daughters participated in, an impromptu party for a bunch of teenagers.  There was shopping for school supplies {see, I did it}, cleaning, moving some furniture around, work in the storage room.  A wedding last night provided an opportunity for service, new friendships, and a brief conversation with a wise old gentleman that brought tears to my eyes.  For some reason I saw many people this week who are hurting:  some whose pain is so visible and others whose pain lies behind a perfectly normal exterior.  I am reminded how life wounds all of us at different times and in different ways, but it is all calculated to stretch us, humble us, help us grow.  I’ve been thinking a lot about the miracle of Jesus Christ’s Atonement and the resurrection that will heal and fix so many things.  What a marvelous day it will be, and how many of us there are who ache and watch for that day with great longing.

Here I stand on the edge of another school year and I wonder, have I grown at all this year?  Am I learning anything?  Is there a habit anywhere in my life that is new because I’m trying?  I honestly don’t know.  I know I’m getting better at taking large groups of children to crowded places without feeling much stress.  {Does that count for anything?}  I’m getting better at helping my children work.  I’m becoming a better finisher.  I’m getting better at recognizing what we do and don’t need  and making decisions accordingly.  I don’t know that the house looks any better.   I’m still working at taking better care of my health.  But really, here I am near the end of August and I can’t really say that I’ve changed.  Not yet.  The old me might feel discouraged, but there is a hopeful feeling in my heart that says, “It’s ok.  Keep trying.  Work at it a while longer and then look back for evidence.”  There’s got to be a turning point nearby, a point at which things start to come together and stay that way more consistently.  I will find it.

So I’m going to check on the little kiddos upstairs and then I’m going to sleep.  Much as I want summer back, great things are ahead for me, for each of my children, for our whole family.  We’re still learning.  It will be a great year.

Jennifer

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