Glorious Dirt

Our vegetable garden attunes me to what is essential.  It is a therapeutic, earthy place where I work hard, but also retreat from normative distractions.  Here I sink into elemental belonging.

We enjoyed the first harvest of baby greens yesterday, and a few edible nasturtiums.   Pregnant hills have just birthed babies that will grow to be vines.  A few yellow blossoms hang from an early-bearing tomato plant.

There’s something remedial about feeling garden dirt crumble in my hands.  “Then the Lord God formed a man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being.” Genesis 2:7

In this sterile world of protective antibiotic gel in handy squirt bottles, it may seem almost radical to invite dirt beneath my fingernails. However, I intuitively know it belongs there, just as God-given vegetation growing from the earth belongs in my stomach – evidences of touchable, divine supremacy and basic fulfillment.

Fancy Day Field Trip

Every once in a while, unique moments line up just so to yield a spectacular experience. Such was the case during a recent Fancy Day field trip.

Last week on her 8^th birthday, my granddaughter and I visited my friend Rose – an accomplished artist, inspiring encourager and teacher, and faithful overcomer.  I love studying her paintings, and am often challenged by her insights.  She also happens to be severely (and increasingly) restricted because of a muscle wasting disease called myopic dystrophy.

Rose and her husband live in a beautiful Victorian home tucked into deep woodlands, sort of a fantasy-gone-real.   On Fancy Day, we approached slowly in the car, winding on gentle curves beneath the canopy of new green leaves.  “If this is where she lives, it’s unreal,” my awed little companion remarked.

Upon arriving, I showed her the delightful pond situated immediately behind the screened-in porch at the back of the house with its five tumbling mini-waterfalls, very large goldfish, frogs, and lush foliage reminiscent of paradise.

Rose and her caretaker invited us to the spacious art studio above the garage, where we stepped into another world ruled by peaceful contemplation and creativity. The walls were decorated with Rose’s exquisite paintings of various sizes.  I asked the birthday girl to point out her favorite.  Overwhelmed by so much beautiful artwork, she chose two.

 

We got down to the business at hand, namely a painting lesson.  Rose offered choices of various colors of acrylic paints, and her young guest carefully chose a palette.

 

Anticipation mounted as she sat down behind a child-sized easel wearing a plastic apron.  I could almost sense it rising to fill the room. “I feel like a REAL artist,” she said quietly, while wiggling like a little hen to settle into the child-sized chair.

After offering various sizes of brushes and some general instruction, Rose left her to create “whatever she was feeling” while the two of us engaged in grown-up conversation.  Every now-and-then we offered a compliment or encouragement, or a question to spur the work in progress. 

When finished, the little artist was very pleased.  “This is my best painting ever," she said. “I should put it in a frame and hang it on the wall.”  She bent close to me when Rose wasn’t looking: “Maybe I could put it in a frame and give it back to Miss Rose as a gift?”  So sweet.

Then it was time for cleanup, followed by a tea party on the screened back porch.  Rose’s caretaker brought us three precious ceramic pots sitting atop matching cups, and I presented Rose and the birthday girl with small, just-for-fun gifts. We brewed our spicy chai next to a plate of gluten-free, sugar-free items I’d brought from home (Rose is also on a very careful diet).

With the pond laughing and gurgling in the background, we sipped tea and sampled skewered fruit and baked goodies. The birthday girl blew out a celebratory candle, and we sang “happy birthday” to her.  Conversation flowed surprisingly easily.

When it was time for us to leave, we returned to the pond to quickly say good-bye.   “I just love it here,” said my granddaughter. Her comment seemed profound.  We had been blessed by beauty that would linger long in my memory – and hopefully hers, as well.

"I Live Again"

Today I stood face-to-face with compassion.  Mercy interwoven with raw, tenacious courage.   Gentle but robust lion-heartedness.  Unimaginable sadness.  Heroic forgiveness.

I recognized all of it, right there in Bensen Ocen’s face.  In his intense eyes that projected deep anguish for his war-torn people, and melted into sparkly pools at the mention of his wife and three young children.

I heard it woven throughout Bensen’s detailed accounts of terroristic LRA mega-atrocities in his homeland of northern Uganda. And I felt it when he spoke of horrific murders (two of his brothers among them), and of his own captivity for fifteen long years.  

He broke with tears of unfathomable gratitude when crediting the United States for donating food during that time of confinement, enabling him to live and eventually support others’ recoveries from the barbaric savagery of Uganda’s war.  And then he shared riveting testimonies of seemingly impossible soul healing as a result of compassionate, courageous forgiveness.  

Reconciliation through forgiveness undergirds Bensen’s work with the traumatized, a sort of inner disinfectant for the poison of bitterness and hate that circulates within those bitten by the wicked snake of outlandish terror.  This is supported by deeply abiding faith in God, bold hope - and staunch courage to face trauma, forgive unfathomable offense, and heal.  

Bensen is on the front line, reaching people who have died inside, inspiring them to forgive and live.  This is a therapy of love without bounds, and it works.  My exposure to him, although brief, has inspired a different kind of profound awe for the power of God at work in human life.

Bensen Ocen is affiliated with “I Live Again Uganda”: http://www.ilauganda.org

Free Food!

Stinging nettles.  As a kid, I avoided these prickly plants at all cost – youch!

Well, we ATE young nettles for the first time a couple of years ago as last-minute dinner guests at a monastery.  The gracious nuns had no idea we were coming, but supplied an elegant meal anyway.  When I asked about the delicious "greens," I learned they were nettles from the woods - young plants that hadn't yet reached knee height. 

So guess what?  Nettles are growing profusely at the back of our new property across the street!  And we had some for dinner last night! I mean really, who can resist FREE FOOD – especially organic free food that is chock full of nutrition?

It goes without saying (but I’m saying it anyway just in case you’ve not encountered nettles personally) I wore rubber gloves when harvesting these scratchy leaves.  BUT! Within the first 30 seconds of boiling in a pot of hot water, the prickles disappeared.  After a few minutes, the wilted leaves looked and tasted similar to cooked spinach.

Here are some nettles growing in their natural habitat at the edge of the woods.

And here they are in my kitchen pre-and-post boiling.

To complete this little documentary, they finally they made it into a pie plate as the lead ingredient for a rich nettle soufflé (I made it up, sort of like something I used to do with spinach) which was served alongside button mushrooms sautéed in coconut oil:

 

In case you’re curious (or freaked out) as a result of this report, I’ll include an excerpt from a web site called Organic Facts: 

“Some of the most important health benefits of stinging nettle include its ability to detoxify the body, improve metabolic efficiency, boost immune health, increase circulation, improve energy levels, manage menstruation, minimize menopausal symptoms, heal skin conditions, protect kidney and gallbladder health, lower inflammation, increase muscle mass, regulate hormonal activity, prevent diabetes, lower blood pressure, soothe hemorrhoids, and improve respiratory conditions.”

You can check out more info here if you’re inspired:  http://www.organicfacts.net/health-benefits/herbs-and-spices/stinging-nettle.html