My Pic

My Pic

Welcome to my little Corner

I am Barbara.

An introvert masquerading as an extrovert, a backyard gardener with a farmer's heart, a nurse by day and a dreamer by night. I am passionate about Jesus, spicy food, puppy dogs, words, compost and the aroma of desert rain. Music is chocolate to my soul but solitude feeds the deepest part of me.

And you need to know:

I have been rescued.

Several times actually. Right out of the mud and mire. My writing began as whispers between me and my God and it will always be rooted in that soil. So the plan is simple: I write. Out of the overflow of my heart, the place He has so generously chosen to dwell.

Though I am all grown up, I feel as if the handsome Prince has finally found me and the glass slipper fits. And a living breathing fairy tale has ensued.

So pull up a chair and "sit a spell", as we would say from my West Virginia roots. I hope you find His Footprints here.

Saturday, May 25, 2013

Trees and Testimonies

Sadly, the Oleander must go.  I watch it out my window, the bright red flowers coloring our backyard landscape.  But it grew crooked.  Its base of support shifted with a gusty wind and now it leans to the side, just waiting for the final blow.  It seems sad to pull it up.  But it will never make it to transplant.  The roots will be exposed to the dry desert air and it has grown too large to try to nourish its tender roots again in a new location.

I, too, am crooked and lean to the side.  You see I did not always rest upon Him. And the supports that I chose were not able to hold me.  My hands formed my own idols and they would disappoint. Their tender but lying voices called to me and I bought the lies.  But God in His great mercy did not pull me up and dispose of me.

Slipping away from my spiritual home into the dark did have nasty consequences though.  I was not made to live in that place.  I became hungry, really hungry.  But far in the distance, I could see the Father.  Expectantly waiting.  He knew I would return.  How voraciously He loves wayward prodigals! Sometimes I think he carves out a special place in the curvature of His arm for ones like me.

I watch my husband sever the oleander branches.  Little by little, there is less of it.  Sweat pours off his brow as he tends to the work of the ground.  Finally there is an empty space where it stood. But other plantings once hidden are now visible.  And when I study it, I see a potential for new beauty - His beauty.

Always the Creator, His touch brings new life.

I am evidence of that.

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