WHAT IS MY PURPOSE?

I’m sitting here in my well-worn wicker chair enjoying a perfectly peaceful morning, watching the Cardinals and Titmice feed and the hummer darting here and there with spectacular agility, and it’s hard for me to imagine the chaos, desperation, and despair that at this moment in time is rampant in other parts of my world. Earthquakes, tornadoes, wars, disease, famine, murder and general mayhem all around me, everywhere. I know that my world is bigger than my lanai; bigger than my immediate family and my circle of friends; bigger than my city and my job; bigger than my state and bigger than my country. This big world of mine is so troubled. And here I sit . . .

Our Pastor recently asked the question that we have asked ourselves since time began: “What is your purpose here?” As Christians, we believe that our purpose is to love God and serve Him. Scripture tells us to love God with all our hearts, soul and mind, and to love our neighbor as ourselves. So, is my purpose served when I attend worship on Sunday; when I am friendly and kind to people I meet there or in the store after church, or on the street; when I give a dollar or two to the panhandler on the corner; when I send a few dollars to World Vision to help the children in Africa; when I occasionally visit a nursing home or Alzheimer Center? Or is more expected of me? Is it enough that I grieve for the victims of the Earthquakes. Is it enough that I grieve for African mothers, fathers, and children who are dying from Malaria or AIDS?

When I ask myself if I have “loved my neighbor as myself,” I have to answer truthfully that I haven’t. If my home was destroyed by an earthquake, and if I lost family members due to some tragic natural disaster, I would be there for me . . . I would spare no dollar nor effort to rebuild my life and the life of my loved ones who are so much a part of me. Yet, all I do for those fellow members of the human race who suffer such pain is send a few dollars and sit on my porch enjoying my peaceful life.

Several years ago my home was damaged when Hurricane Charlie blew through with great gusto and took my roof. Charlie was followed by two more hurricanes which were big rain-makers and although my roof had a tarp covering it, the rain made it’s way into the attic space and soon I stood in the living room and watched the ceiling fall. It’s difficult to describe the sense of loss that I experienced as I watched my home fall apart. This loss, of course, doesn’t compare with what the earthquake victims have experienced. But it helps me to get closer to understanding how devastated they must feel and to admire their strength and resiliency as they struggle to recover. Their catastrophic losses, so sudden and horrific, call for unbelievable courage and strength just to go on living. Is there something I can do to help? Is there some way to love them in the way God calls me to love them?

Seven years ago, I lost my husband after a long battle with cancer. His death was not unexpected but knowing it was coming didn’t alleviate the pain. Looking back, though, I understand that had he been taken from me suddenly and without warning, I would have suffered his loss in a very different way. Even though his long illness was difficult and painful, we had time! Time to say the things that needed to be said. Time to love one another in a way we hadn’t loved before. Time to remember all the good times and laugh at the not so good times. We were able to hold one another at the end and whisper our good-byes. I will be forever grateful for that time.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we all had that kind of time to prepare . . . but life isn’t always wonderful and folks the world over suffer enormous losses, suddenly and without warning, without understanding, and without the means to recover. Am I called to do more? What is expected of me? What is my purpose?

IF WISHES WERE HORSES . . .

When I was a girl, Mom’s response to my many daydreams and wishes was always: “If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.”

I wasn’t absolutely sure what that meant other than it was unlikely my wish would be granted. She was right, of course, most of those wishes didn’t come true.

For instance:

“I wish we were rich like the Hendersons, then I could have a horse.”

“I wish I could grow up to look like Loretta Young.”

“I wish my nose wasn’t so big.”

“I wish there wasn’t such a thing as cancer.”

Mom has been gone for many years, and I am still wishing, but some of those wishes have changed. Here’s a few of today’s wishes:

“I wish there was less hatred in this world.”

“I wish politicians cared more about doing the right thing than about being re-elected.”

“I wish no child would go to bed hungry tonight.”

“I wish people didn’t need drugs and alcohol to cope.”

“I wish Christmas was more about the gift of Love and less about gifts.”

“I wish the food I love didn’t make me fat or clog my arteries.”

“I wish there was no such thing as cancer.”

But, I know . . . “If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.”

SPRING HAS SPRUNG

After an unusually long and cold winter in Florida, Spring arrived in my back yard, chasing out the “Old Man” and bringing with it new life. At first, I noticed tiny green tufts on the “B.S Tree” just outside my lanai. This tree belongs to the birds and squirrels, thus it’s name.

These days there is a cacophony of song out there along with some rather suggestive dance routines involving fluttering wings and bright colors in odd places. For instance, the Cat Bird has a very bright orange patch directly under his tail which you and I could miss entirely, but which is apparently something that the female Catbird must see before she’ll dance.

In not more than two or three days, those tiny green tufts on the BS Tree have already developed into full-fledged Spring Green leaves. Spring green, as opposed to autumn green, is fresh, bright and bursting with vitality. The color alone causes my spirit to soar and fills me with anticipation. No wonder the birds sing with such abandon (or it could just be the little orange patch.)

I planted seeds and welcomed the rain which would help them grow. They will be miraculously transformed into colorful Cosmos in a few weeks. All around me are signs of new life. The March winds do their job of blowing away winter debris and coating my lanai with a fine yellow dust, which results in sneezing, snorting, watery eyes, and some complaining. Not my favorite spring gift, but a necessary one. Now as the last of the crisp brown hangers-on float to the ground giving way to the Spring Green new-borns, my Oak trees seem to stand taller and prouder, promising summer shade for the garden.

When I next look, I see that the seemingly lifeless little seeds that I had placed in the dirt a few days ago have sprung to life and I can’t help but smile. How is this possible? My logical mind cannot understand this miracle, but my heart understands. Our God is an awesome God!

I am reminded anew that we are the recipients of a precious gift every morning: God’s unfailing love, freshly wrapped today in the promises of Spring. At this time of the year, the words “He Lives,” become in my heart, “We Live.”

In my Garden, where he walks with me and talks with me, I am thrilled and humbled by the breathtaking beauty of His creation. I am forever grateful for His enduring faithfulness and love expressed in so many ways every day, every season of the year, throughout our lives. And words are not enough to express my gratitude for the gift of eternal life purchased by the blood of God’s own Son, Jesus.

And as if that wasn’t enough, He gives us Spring. What an awesome God!