For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven. A time to be born and a time to die. A time to plant and a time to harvest. A time to kill and a time to heal. A time to tear down and a time to build up. A time to cry and a time to laugh. A time to grieve and a time to dance. [Ecclesiastes 3:1-4 (NLT)]
We enjoy walking in the local Botanical Garden as well as the nearby Corkscrew Swamp. Although both offer plenty of photo ops and pleasant strolls in God’s creation, the Garden offers more color and variety than a swamp any day. Nevertheless, as much as I enjoy the Garden’s beauty and serenity, I feel more at home in the swamp.
While the Botanical Garden always has an abundance of showy colorful orchids, the swamp’s “super ghost orchid” has blossoms for only a few weeks each year. Even then, you need binoculars or a spotting scope to view its delicate (and not very impressive) flowers. At various times of the year, the swamp has wildflowers like blue flag iris, morning glories, and string lilies but they pale in comparison to the variety of exotic flora found in the Garden all year long. If the swamp’s flowers were in a beauty contest with the Garden’s flamboyant blooms like the passion flower or flaming glory bower, they’d easily lose.
Carefully designed by world-famous landscape architects and impeccably maintained by staff and volunteers, the Botanical Garden speaks of order, design, and perfection; nothing ever seems amiss. The Garden’s plants are beautifully pruned, fertilized, and fussed over. Weeds are quickly pulled and, should a plant wither or die, a lovely new one quickly replaces it.
In contrast, the swamp, with no apparent plan to its layout or plants, is a hodgepodge of flora, fauna, and water that changes almost daily. Completely dependent on rain for its existence, its animals and plants are left to the whims of the weather and Mother Nature. No one pulls the weeds, deadheads the flowers, shapes the trees, or brushes away dead leaves. Lightening and hurricanes take a heavy toll on the swamp’s plant life and, when conditions aren’t favorable, plants wither and die while animals move elsewhere. Dead trees eventually fall and, unless they’re blocking the trail, wherever they land is where they remain.
Try as I might, my life will never have the exquisite perfection of a Botanical Garden. In truth, it resembles the unpredictable and disordered swamp more than any garden. Perhaps, that’s why I enjoy it so much. The swamp is imperfect, changeable, and full of surprises. I never know what flowers will be in bloom, what birds will appear, or if I’ll see alligators, snakes, raccoons, or deer. The only thing I know for sure is that the swamp never disappoints; it always is wonderful and wild in its own unique way!
Life, like the swamp, is chaotic, disorganized, and a little dangerous; nevertheless, it is magnificent! As much as we might prefer it to be as ordered, serene, and pristine as a botanical garden, it isn’t! We’re sure to encounter life’s versions of thistles, mosquitoes, fungus, poison ivy, and animal scat. Nevertheless, along the way, there will be blessings like the swamp’s Roseate Spoonbills, sunflowers, deer, Scarlet Hibiscus, butterflies, and tiny green tree frogs! Like the swamp, we’ll have seasons of abundance and scarcity, downpours and drought, growth and dormancy, health and affliction, blessings and misfortune, beginnings and endings, and even occasional hurricanes. Life comes with its share of muck, weeds, pests, predators, storms, and vulnerability to circumstances beyond our control. The only sure thing is that God is with us during it all!
It’s ironic that our local Botanical Garden is in what used to be a swamp. The 250,000 yards of fill created after two lakes were dug in 2008 sculpted the property into the splendid showplace it is today. Someday, we will trade in our earthly swamp for God’s heavenly garden—a garden far more magnificent than any earthly garden—one with no disease, death, sorrow, pain, or weeds. Until then, we must be satisfied living in the crazy and wonderful swamp we call life. As we walk through it, we brush off the spider webs, avoid the scat on the trail, stay clear of the alligators, and look for the swamp’s gifts. Confident in the swamp’s creator, we find joy and contentment in the unique beauty of our somewhat confusing and chaotic journey. Thank you, God, for this amazing holy mess we call life!
What would you do if you were six and your father said that your mom is in the hospital because she finds it hard to be happy and “did something stupid”? That question is answered in Duncan Macmillan and Jonny Donahoe’s one-act play, Every Brilliant Thing. In their play, that boy, now a grown man, tells the audience that he made of list of everything that was “brilliant” about the world—everything worth living for—and left it on his mother’s pillow. Reflecting a six-year old’s priorities, the list included ice cream, Kung-Fu movies, laughing so hard you shoot milk out your nose, burning things, construction cranes, and “me.” Although she returns the list with its spelling corrected, the boy’s mother never comments on it. Nevertheless, he keeps adding to his list. Although his mother eventually takes her life, the narrator tells how his list took on a life of its own and eventually saved him from his own depression and suicidal thoughts.
The tradition of New Year’s resolutions goes back over 4,000 years to the ancient Babylonians (whose new year began in mid-March with the spring equinox). During their 12-day celebration called Akitu, they either crowned a new king or reaffirmed their loyalty to the old one. To ensure the gods’ favor, they promised to return borrowed items and pledged the repayment of all their debts.
Unfortunately, much of our Advent season is not spent joyfully looking forward to celebrating the birth of the Christ child. In hope of finding the perfect gift for everyone on our list, we pore over catalogues and search for sales and coupons. Either we fight for parking spots at the mall and spend hours standing in line or spend those hours sitting at the computer while shopping on line! We then fret and fuss over wrapping those gifts, mailing packages and Christmas cards, hosting and attending parties, baking cookies, making travel arrangements, decorating the house, preparing holiday dinners, and paying the ever-mounting bills. When we say, “Merry Christmas!” we might find ourselves mumbling a Scrooge-like “Bah! Humbug” under our breath! Instead of looking forward to Christmas with anticipation, there are times we can’t wait until it’s all over and done.
When I was a girl (back in the days of pen, paper, and postage stamps), my mother insisted that I write a “thank you” note for any gifts I received. Whether my birthday or Christmas, I was not allowed to enjoy any gifts until the necessary notes had been written. Moreover, each note had to be personal. I couldn’t just write a quick generic, “Thank you for the nice present.” I had to say something specific about the gift and, if it was money, I had to say how I planned on using it. Even if the present was something I really didn’t like or want (and we’ve all had those kinds of gifts), I had to express gratitude. My mother reminded me that, while I might not value the gift, someone else’s time, thought, love, and money had gone into getting it for me. Therefore, I should take the time to properly acknowledge and show my appreciation for the giver’s generosity. Her “thank you” note rule also applied whenever someone did something special for me. If a family took me to an event or I’d spent the night at a friend’s house, a note of thanks had to be written.
Devotions of the Heart 