Like A Begonia

My sister is the gardener, not me. Whether planting a pot, planter, raised bed, or perimeter border, she has a vision to cultivate a beautiful space and create a sanctuary where living things can flourish together.

Not long ago she found a begonia at The Home Depot. It was in a small pot, priced to sell, and clearly on its way out. That sad little begonia in the small plastic pot filled with dried out and depleted soil was probably doomed for the dumpster, had someone, like say, my sister, not spotted it and taken it home.

She planted it in a large pot that sits by the back door, along with a variegated fuchsia, a fern, and some coleus. It had room to grow, good soil, fresh air, sunlight, water, the company of other plants, and a gardener determined to help it thrive. And it did.

The world right now feels much like that last chance rack at The Home Depot. If you are anything like me, it often feels like the pot in which I am planted is too small, the soil dried out and depleted. Looking around, in many ways, it is a sad state of affairs.

And yet.

I can’t help but believe that we are a lot like that little begonia. Individually and collectively we are meant to thrive.

We are the plant, and, we are the gardener.

It starts with our own garden and grows out from there.

Let’s be gardeners determined to help one another thrive.

Finding A Church Home

Recently I returned to a neighborhood from my childhood. Almost every week we used to drive up a hill past a little white church that I fantasized turning into a home one day. Even back then I had a longing to live in sacred space. To dwell where God dwells.

Today, more than fifty years after those childhood drives and dreams, I discovered that someone has indeed turned that church into their home. Looking up at the white spire and leaded glass windows, it hit me, it isn’t the building that makes a space sacred, it is the spirit that fills it. God, at least any understanding that I have of the Creator that, one way or another, started it all, dwells wherever invited.

Church as home. Home as church. It’s all sacred space. Or at least I think it is meant to be.

The Muk

A space is just a space, until you make it something more.

When my sister and brother-in-law bought their last home, they bought it not because it was the place of their dreams, but because it was the only one they could agree on. Determined to make a decision, they invited me to go along as they drove from listing to listing to listing. It was a long day.

At the time, they were moving from the home where they had raised their daughters, and they weren’t exactly sure what the next chapter would bring. He however was sure he wanted a shop, and she was certain she wanted a home with some charm and a garden. Sometimes I rode with him, and sometimes with her. Like I said. It was a long day.

By the end of the afternoon, he had his eye on a so-so house with a shop on a very busy street, and she was starry-eyed about the adorable cottage with a secret garden that overlooked the lanes to the ferry. We’d also looked at a townhome in Mukilteo. It overlooked the Puget Sound, and while it had a killer view of Whidbey Island, It didn’t have a shop, and it didn’t have a secret garden. With no decision in sight and all in need of caffeine, we headed to Starbucks. Breaking the silence, I asked each of them a question. Could she live in the so-so house on the busy street with the shop? No, she could not. Could he live in the adorable cottage with the secret garden that overlooked the ferry lanes? No, he could not. Well then, I asked, could they live in the townhome overlooking the Puget Sound with the killer view of Whidbey Island, but without a shop or a secret garden?

They could, and, as it turned out, they did.

After fourteen years, they are moving out of the The Muk. Even though it wasn’t what they’d imagined, or even hoped for, they moved in and made it work. They made it into a lovely space with lovely furnishings.

As it turns out, it was so much more than that.

A few nights ago their daughters, sons-in-law, and a passel of grandkids showed up to say goodbye to the The Muk. Apparently it wasn’t a place one could simply leave without a proper farewell. Crowded onto a small balcony, stories of times at the Muk began to unfold, painting a picture of a shelter from storms, a place where all who came felt safe, seen, heard, and loved. The Muk was a refuge of healing, hope, and a place where the truth, no matter how hard, was spoken and heard, and freedom was found.

When they moved in it was just a space with a view.

When they moved in they made it into a lovely space with lovely furnishings.

But a space with a view, no matter how beautiful, and a carefully furnished place no matter how lovely, do not a refuge make. Only love and grace and faith and truth and laughter and family and friendship and courage and compassion and tradition and extravagant welcome can do that.

Farewell to the Muk. We are all better for having known you.

Safe Spaces

We all need safe spaces for courageous thinking. 

Let’s create them for each other.

Walking The Refuge

We live near a beautiful wildlife refuge, and we walk it as often as we can.

A combination of oak, pine, and aspen forests, wetlands, and grassy prairies, it offers an ever-changing, always stunning vista as the seasons roll through, and provides habitat for creatures large, small, and everywhere in between.

Photo: Jean Gale

The refuge is a fusion of discovery and quiet familiarity. Discovery because it is always changing, and you never know what you might encounter around the next curve in the trail, or through your binoculars trained across the landscape. Quiet familiarity comes from the well known landmarks, sound of wind in the pines, and the always staggering view of Mt. Adams.

There is a three-mile loop trail that wanders along its edge, with a viewing platform at the midway point from which to catch a possible glimpse of some wildlife.

Walking the refuge is to visit a place of safety, sanctuary, retreat, and shelter.

Walking the refuge is to encounter a fusion of discovery and familiarity.

Walking the refuge is an opportunity to stand on a viewing platform and catch a glimpse of one’s life.

Where is there a refuge for you to walk?