Spring Wands

He ran into the house. His bright smile gave away his excitement. His hands were full. Full of Narcissus. But that is not what he calls them. To him, 9 year-old Jesse, these yellow, circular flowers whose blooms droop down as if they are looking at the ground, are called buttercups. He does not know that they are named after a young man who thought himself quit beautiful and fell in love with his own reflection. Or that myth tells the young man was transformed into this flower with its head ever facing downward, as if searching for a glimpse of itself in a nearby Spring rain puddle.  

These blooms that he ever so carefully and places in jars, glass bottles, and Dollar Tree vases all throughout his house, are the first signs of spring. They have come through the hard, red Georgia clay that we call soil. And they bloom. Their tall stems, sometimes reaching 12 inches tall, act as fairy wands bidding the early evening darkness to give way to more sun. Their frail sunshine-colored petals withstand the last chills of winter. They stand happily in their jars, vases, and vintage coke bottles on the kitchen table.

They decide to make their appearance when all who hold summer in the south near and dear to their hearts think winter is never going to end. They begin telling their story during the season of Lent: forty days before Easter set aside to fast and remember the suffering of Christ. Christ suffered through every tair and trip, every broken heart and beaten body, every collapsed family and crying eye. And then He died. But because of the power of His Father, Creator of the universe, three days later, Christ was brought back to life. 

“For He died for us to give us life
And to give us hope He rose” – Hope’s Song

These buttercups, these daffodils, these Lent Lily’s give hope.Image

Roar With Confidence

Proverbs 31:10

“An Excellent wife who can find?

She is far more precious than jewels.” 

The hot water is running and Mommy’s hand are red from the dishwater. As I put away the leftovers from supper, my three little sisters are drying and putting away the clean dishes that have passed through Mommy magic, dishing-washing hands. Our redneck amp sits in the corner of the kitchen with my camo, Otterbox clad iPhone hooked up to it. At times, as soft piano music flows out, we pretend waltz across the 30 year-old linoleum floor. Or you can catch us all singing along with Jason Aldean. He kind of sums up our life, believe it or not.  

But that’s not what has us groovin’ and hip-bumping tonight.

With the bouncing beat starting, we all join Katy as she starts,

“I used to bite my tongue and hold my breath

scared to rock the boat and make a mess

so I sit quietly, agreed politely…”

You might be thinking:

“What! those girls are listening to and singing Katy Perry?” 

Yeah, we do. Admit it, you probably like some stuff like that, too.    

We listen to Katy Perry, the Piano Guys, One Republic, Rodney Atkins, Philip Philips, Jason Aldean. Who wouldn’t? When we listen to them, we sing along with them, dance, (even though some of us are white) we swat our dish towels at one another. We sing into one another’s eyes and then burst out in giggles. We can do all of this because of the women whose hands are in dirty dish water.

Mommy-“What’s the name of that guy who sings that song about Amarillo?”

Me-“Amarillo Sky?”

“Yeah! It reminds me of Daddy. I love that song.”

She supports and loves my Daddy, her husband, like no wife I know. She is a woman who has done everything in life with excellence. She has never been satisfied with where she stands in her faith. As she sits in the rocking chair each morning with her Bible in her lap, she soaks up the daily bread that her Heavenly Father offers her. Because she stands in boots made out of the peace of the gospel, she has made her home a place of freedom.

She is a wife of excellence who is worth far more than precious jewels.

Because of who she is in Christ, because she has allowed herself to be sensitive to the Holy Spirit, and because she is a daughter of the King, she stands in confidence. With that confidence, as she washes red plates and white bowls with blue flowers on them that we call our “happy bowls”, she has given her children the freedom to dance to Katy Perry around the island. But we know that Katy isn’t exactly a role model. We know we can dance to her music, but that the real-deal guidance for life-junk comes from our Heavenly Father who is also our Mommy’s Heavenly Father. And that is because she has taught us a lesson worth more precious jewels: That a real woman is one whose confidence comes from her Heavenly Father.

She teaches us lessons everyday. She has been teaching me everyday of my life, and not just phonics and devision. I think I don’t realize how much she has taught me. But I hope I will continue to realize it bit by bit so that I might share it with you. ImageMy Mommy with my little brother, Jesse.