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The Gardener

5/28/2019

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I’ve met her a number of times before, but yesterday I didn’t recognise her. Cancer has taken its toll and her headscarf alerted me to the fact that chemotherapy had done its deadly deed. She greeted me cheerfully and assured me that the news was good, the treatment had arrested the disease and she was hopeful about the future.
 
This lady has spent a lifetime creating one of the most beautiful gardens I’ve ever seen. Its not just her gardening skills and knowledge that amaze me but her vision and ability to create breath taking spaces, each so different and complete in themselves, yet able to flow effortlessly into each other.
 
As I wandered around the garden, a soft rain of autumn leaves settled in my hair and on my shoulders. Many trees stood naked already and those that still blazed with vibrant colour were releasing their leaves to the gently breeze, in a final farewell to the season.
 
It is a garden in transition, like the gardener herself. 
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And then in a moment I saw it everywhere. Hope.

​I saw it rising out of the bare branches of the now naked trees. Buds … promising new growth and a future in another season. Many of those buds were tiny, barely visible and yet they were there, like the remnant of hope that we cling to when all around us seems bare and bleak. But sometimes that’s all we need. A bud of hope, no matter how small, gives us the strength to continue; like a vestige of light amidst the darkness.
 
I saw it in the large swelling buds of the rhododendron, intricate in design and the forerunner of the beauty and colour of its spring blossom. Who could imagine such majestic glory bursting from such a tightly knit bud, but then the wonder of what lays ahead in life is so often hidden from our view behind the folds of the present moment.
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I saw it again in the seedpods that were scattering hope with generous abandon … every seed holding the possibility of a new creation and every seed and pod unique.
 
Hope can’t be defined for it too is unique. 
 
And I saw it in the tiniest shoots emerging from bulbs buried deep in the ground, whispering hope in a future not yet a reality. Always there are signposts though often we miss them or they are unrecognisable to our finite minds and earthly eyes. But we hope regardless until we see reality.

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I love Eugene Petersen’s definition of hope, ‘alert expectation’. It’s such a positive image of waiting expectantly rather than holding on to hope with grim determination. For suffering produces patience and strength of character, which gives us the ability to wait hopefully for whatever God is wanting to do next in our lives.
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I’d gone to this garden to immerse myself in autumn’s beauty but the garden had other ideas … it invited me to look beyond the obvious to see the wonder of hope, inconspicuous and yet vibrantly alive in all of nature. It reminded me of the inevitable transitions we all navigate throughout life and the modest and often unassuming nature of hope. ​

That hope which was deeply knit in the gardener's soul. When digging and building, sowing and planting left sore muscles and aching bones, hope got her up again the next morning; hope for what could be. The now towering trees were once just seedlings filled with hope. Now the garden is a masterpiece which will live on as an inspiration for generations to come.

​Hope has a long view. I will plant the seed but someday someone else will sit under the shade of its branches.


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Wide angle

5/21/2019

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Some of you know I love macro photography. I am fascinated by the world of small details. It’s a magical world of wide-eyed wonder; it’s captivating and sometimes addictive! The detail in a bird’s wing, the expression in a love ones face and the intricate design in an ordinary seedpod all fascinate me.
 
But I’ve begun to realise that in attuning my eye to detail, I’m in danger of missing the wide view, the sweeping vistas that have their own beauty. I can be so close to something that I don’t see the complete picture. I need to take a step back, look up and out and appreciate the wide angle.
 
I wonder if you're like that too, so preoccupied with what’s right in front of you that you fail to see how its just part of a much larger story. Its as if we become myopic and it warps our perspective.
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Focusing on the details alone gives me a skewed view of life. But seeing only the broad spectrum I completely miss the detail and am left the poorer for the wonder and beauty I walk right by on a daily basis.
 
I can so often miss the moment of kindness and thoughtfulness being offered when my mind is on the job ahead; the generosity of spirit that made room for me in someone’s life and I took it for granted; the word of encouragement or the sacrifice I missed because I was preoccupied with something else. Like the flowers of the field, those moments are here today and gone tomorrow so look for them like specs of gold in a gold miner's pan.
 
It’s hard to get the balance isn’t it? To live this crazy, busy life with all our responsibilities, demands and long to-do-lists and still find time to zero in on the small things … to give them and to receive them.
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I read a story this week that beautifully portrays the gift of seeing the big picture and acting in the small detail. You may have seen it in The Age.
 
A 14 year-old Downs Syndrome boy was on a flight with his parents and siblings. Just before the plane was to land he felt sick and lay on the floor of the plane refusing to get back in his seat so the plane could land. His parents tried and the crew tried but with no avail. The plane kept circling and fuel levels were dropping.
 
In a moment of inspiration the pilot asked if there was a teacher onboard. A teacher came forward, laid down on the floor with the boy and asked his name, where he was from, and what was his favourite book … Winnie the Pooh. They talked about Eeyore, Piglet and Tigger, and eventually she coaxed the boy to come sit next to her.
 
With much relief to everyone, he did, and despite vomiting over the plane and the teacher, they were able to land safely. When the plane came to a standstill, everyone sat quietly and allowed the teacher and her new little friend to leave the plane to a big round of applause.
 
In the middle of a miid-air emergency came an opportunity to bend down and show love and care for a young boy, to help him to feel safe and secure and treat him with kindness and understanding.
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There’s a term in photography for the distance between the place where I stand and the far horizon, its called depth of field.  It allows me to focus on the foreground detail while also keeping in focus the whole picture. That’s how I want to live my life.

Give me the eyes, Lord, to catch the moments of beauty and wonder in nature and in life. And give me your long view to the far horizon lest I become bogged down in my own existence and fail to remember that I am part of your much wider landscape.
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Love on the loose

5/14/2019

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I knew she was struggling. I also knew it was difficult for her to find the motivation to prepare a meal so I took some of her favourite foods hoping to tempt her appetite. As she opened the door, her first words were, ”you can’t come in the house is a mess”.
 
I gave her a hug and the food and left with a sad heart … sad that, after twenty years of friendship, she couldn’t trust me to see beyond the house and love and care for the beautiful woman she is.
 
But I get it, I really do. We all have an acquaintance with pride, shame and guilt. Certainly I’ve been known to rush around getting the house tidy before folks came because I didn’t want them to think badly of me.
 
How much we lose when we put pride before hospitality.
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Joan Chittister says, Hospitality is simply love on the loose. What a beautiful and fitting way to think about something that has become so distorted in our society. Somehow hospitality has become interchangeable with entertaining, which at its best is about providing a pleasant experience for family, friends or perhaps strangers but at its worst is more about performance, competition or a bid for approval.
 
I believe hospitality is so much more, creating a safe place where people feel free to be themselves and providing a space where they feel heard.
 
It doesn’t have to be a physical place, I can offer hospitality to a homeless person on the street just by sitting with them and showing them I care. So many of them say they feel invisible as people walk on by avoiding their eyes. They long for a smile, a friendly word, they long for inclusion. And isn’t that what we all long for, to be included?
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At its core, hospitality is about our heart … about welcoming people into our lives … about our love let loose.
 
Do I have an open door to my life, willing to let people take me as they find me? Can I sit down in the muddle of whatever is going on and be present with another soul?
 
We are all longing for love and vulnerability even though it might feel like the scariest thing we could wish for. Hospitality can be that bridge which connects two hearts and meets the deepest needs of the human soul. Whether we offer a meal, a bed or a listening ear, if it’s motivation is love, it will connect us.

All around us are people who are feeling lonely, uncared for and hungry for much more than a fast-food experience. Hospitality is the banquet, the love feast that reflects a Saviour whose name is love. 
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Hanging out

5/7/2019

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It seems to have disappeared from our way of life, like some ancient language no longer spoken.
 
Have we lost the ability to pause, or have we just forgotten how vital it is? The Creator of the universe thought so. He imprinted it throughout nature. Autumn leaves don’t forget to fall or winter to arrive when bumblebees, bears and hedgehogs take their rest and when trees replenish for the explosion of spring.  A caterpillar takes a long pause before becoming a butterfly and bulbs burst into life and blossom after nine long months in the dark earth.
 
Why do we imagine that we can flourish or our relationships blossom without regular pauses … time to replenish and refocus? Time to let stillness seep into the ‘marrow’ of our soul.
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Are we afraid to stop? Do we fear that in the stillness and silence we will have to face a reality that busyness keeps at bay … loneliness, anxiety, grief, feelings of inadequacy or even the fear of involvement? Or have we just become accustomed to marching to the drumbeat of insistent busyness?
 
Maybe pausing is the antidote to all those fears. Maybe it's the most healing and grounding experience we can give ourselves.  
 
Do you remember the last time you wandered barefoot along a beach, sat on a rock and drank in the smell of the sea or explored the wonder of a rock pool? When did you last curl up in a comfy chair and listen to music for no other reason but to be transported by its beauty?

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We all know that science has discovered a plethora of benefits to pausing life, but for most of us it remains cerebral.  

When life hands us commas and semicolons ... the doctor’s waiting room, a train trip or a wait to board the plane ... we scroll through Facebook or Instagram, check our emails or send texts.
 
We distract ourselves from the very thing that would rest our brain and our emotions, refresh our weary bodies and give us space to connect with our inner selves.  
 
For most of my life taking a break came loaded with guilt, convinced that taking time out for myself was lazy and self indulgent, that there was always more I could or should be doing.

 
Now I see it as a gift. Its in the stillness that I find the release of stress and the return of inspiration and creativity, which has been knocking at the door all along, unable to be heard beneath the constant clatter of busyness. It gives me the ability to stand back and view things from a much more realistic perspective.

Slow me down, Lord, 
to learn from nature all around me
that we were made to pause.
As night gives pause to day
teach me to relinquish the busyness
that keeps me centred on me rather than you. ​
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This year I’ve been making time to hang out in my hammock, allowing myself the gift of stillness, letting all that is normally mere background noise to take centre stage. Watching the pantomime of nature taking place all around me, makes me realised how much I am capable of missing every day.

And there's a bush park where I love to hang out, walking or just sitting on a rock drinking in the beauty and tranquility of the surroundings. It gives me space to engage all my senses and get in touch with the deepest parts of me. I've share some of the beauty in the images in this post, beauty that never fails to inspire me.

In the past I’ve sacrificed so much of the joy of life on the treadmill of incessant activity. Thankfully, I’ve discovered the power of pausing or as CS Lewis so eloquently put it, “into the void of silence, into the empty space of nothing, the joy of life is unfurled”.

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    Author

    Glenyss Barnham
    ​I'm a mother and grandmother who loves  discovering beauty in unexpected places.

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