Keith had major surgery a couple of springs ago and because of his profound deafness I was with him in the hospital as caregiver 24/7.  We don’t do real sign language, but it is easier for me to communicate with him after 45 years of gradually adapting to his increasing disability.  People who are not used to it simply do not know how, and reading lips is not the easy fix to the problem that most think.
              Unfortunately, this hospital stay coincided with the garden harvest.  The beans, squash, and cucumbers had already begun coming in.  While we were away that week, those vegetables continued to grow.  When we got home, the beans were a lost cause--thick, tough, stringy and totally inedible.  The squash looked like a brass band had marched through, discarding their bright yellow tubas beneath the large green leaves, and the cucumbers as if a blimp had flown over in labor and dropped a litter.  If we expected the plants to continue to produce, I had to pull those huge gourds.  That first morning home I picked and dumped 8 buckets full.
              Gardens are taskmasters.  They don’t stop when it doesn’t suit your schedule.  They don’t wait till you have a free moment.  You must reap the harvest when it is ready or you lose it.  Every morning in late May and early June I go out to see what the day holds for me.  Will I be putting up beans or corn or tomatoes?  Will we have okra for supper or do I need to pickle it?  Are the jalapenos ready for this year’s salsa?  Are the bell peppers big enough to stuff or do I need to chop some for the freezer?  Do I need to make pesto before the basil completely seeds out? 
              And then you look for other problems.  Has blight struck the tomatoes?  Do the vining plants have a fungus?  Have the monarch butterflies laid their progeny on the parsley plants?  Have the cutworms attacked the peppers?  Has the ground developed a bacteria that is killing off half the garden almost overnight?  Do things just need watering?
              Childrearing can be the same way.  Children don’t stop growing until it suits your schedule. They don’t wait till you have a free moment.  You must reap the harvest when it is ready or you lose it.
              God expects you to carefully watch those small plants.  He expects you to check for problems before they kill the plants, and nip them in the bud.  It is perfectly normal for a toddler to be self-centered, but somewhere along the way you must teach him consideration for others.  Are you watching for ways to overcome his innate selfishness and teach him to share? Do you have a plan to teach him generosity?  It won’t happen by itself--you have to do it.
              Are you examining your children every day for those little diseases—stubbornness, a hot temper, whining, disrespect, or the other side of the “leaf”—inordinate shyness, self-deprecation, pessimism.  God expects you to look for problems from the beginning and try to fix them so your child will grow into a happy, well-adjusted adult, able to serve Him without the baggage of character flaws that should have been caught when he was very small.  Parents who ignore these things, thinking they will somehow go away when he grows up, are failing in their duties as gardeners of God’s young souls.  Those things will not disappear on their own any more than nematodes and mole crickets will.
              He also expects you to make clear-eyed judgments.  He may be your precious little cutie-pie, but you need to take off your tinted glasses and take a good look at him.  If you ignore his problems because you are too smitten to see them, you do not love your child as much as you claim.  Whoever spares the rod, hates his son, but he who loves him is diligent to discipline him, Prov 13:24.  When I ignore the blight in my garden, it’s because saving the garden isn’t important to me.
              Have you and your spouse ever just sat and watched your children play?  Have you ever given any thought at all to the things you might need to correct in them?  If your schedule is too busy for that, then you are too busy.  Period.  Your children will keep right on growing, and without your attentive care they may rot on the vine. 
              You are a steward of God’s garden.  The most important thing you can do today is take care of it.
 
Your wife will be like a fruitful vine within your house; your children will be like olive shoots around your table… Psalms 128:3.
 
Dene Ward

My herb garden looks the best it has in years.  The perennials—tarragon, Italian oregano, parsley, and chives—have come up beautifully and were already well beyond the new plants I put in—the Greek oregano, sage, creeping thyme, lemon thyme, and a couple of new rosemary plants to replace my old one that looks like a gnarled old man.  I had a host of shades of green, and a variety of leaf styles in the rich, black loam Keith had created for me, not to mention a heady aroma when a breeze passed through.  But I had one empty spot. 
              I already had two Genovese basils in separate pots because they catch disease and fungus easily from other plants.  I had my spearmint plant in its own pot as well, because it will simply take over if you don't keep it corralled.  I seldom use any other herbs than those I already have, so I decided to plant some lavender.  Maybe I could make some sachets, I thought, thinking ahead to gift-giving time.  So I bought one and planted it.
              Two weeks later I came outside to a wilted lavender plant.  Everything else looked fine, putting on new thick growth and even threatening to bloom.  Keith kept the bed well-watered and fertilized, but neither overwatered nor over-fertilized.  What was the problem?  We did some research and found out.  Lavender does not like to be watered and fertilized and it despises rich soil.  It does best when it is left alone in poor dirt.  Imagine that!  We removed it from the herb bed and put it in a pot of dry dirt from the field, but it was too late.  It died within the week.  And that's when I thought of these verses:

              And as they were speaking to the people, the priests and the captain of the temple and the Sadducees came upon them, greatly annoyed because they were teaching the people and proclaiming in Jesus the resurrection from the dead. And they arrested them and put them in custody until the next day, for it was already evening. But many of those who had heard the word believed, and the number of the men came to about five thousand. (Acts 4:1-4)
 
                When Ananias heard these words, he fell down and breathed his last. And great fear came upon all who heard of it…Immediately she fell down at his feet and breathed her last. When the young men came in they found her dead, and they carried her out and buried her beside her husband…And more than ever believers were added to the Lord, multitudes of both men and women, (Acts 5:5, 10, 14)

              It seems like the early church was a lot like English lavender.  Under the worst conditions of persecution and poverty, and after a strong discipline from God, they flourished.  A lot of people have expressed their ideas about why this happened, but it seems simple to me.  Who would join a group they knew could get them beaten, imprisoned, or even killed, and would certainly cause them suffering of some kind in this world except those who were truly converted and devoted to the cause?  Those are the ones who stick and who spread the Word.
              I have heard it said by some that should we once again be persecuted as our ancient brethren were, that the rolls of the church would not decrease at all—we would simply know who really was a Christian and who was a hypocrite.  When the things we complain about have more to do with personal comfort, perhaps it is time to ask ourselves whether we are English lavender Christians or the other type, the fragile, high maintenance plants who need careful tending in order to bear the Lord anything remotely useful at all.
 
And when they had called in the apostles, they beat them and charged them not to speak in the name of Jesus, and let them go. Then they left the presence of the council, rejoicing that they were counted worthy to suffer dishonor for the name. And every day, in the temple and from house to house, they did not cease teaching and preaching that the Christ is Jesus. (Acts 5:40-42)
 
Dene Ward

I went out to water my flowers early one morning, grabbed up the two gallon watering can and headed for the spigot.  The temperature had already risen to the upper 70s, and the humidity had beaten that number by at least twenty.  It dripped off the live oaks, bonking on the metal carport roof as loud as pebbles would have, but I knew that soon the plants would fold their leaves against the heat in a bid to keep as much moisture in them as possible.  A morning drink was a necessity for them to survive the coming afternoon.
 
             I picked up the filled can and began the long trudge to the flower bed.  What was that?  Water was running down the leg that bumped the can as I walked, so I lifted the can and examined it.  A steady stream of water poured out a tiny hole not quite halfway up its side.

              After a moment’s thought, I picked up the pace and made it to the bed in time to pour most of the water on the flowers.  Ordinarily after watering, I keep a full can next to the bed to fill the small bird bath next to it as needed, but that can would no longer hold even half its normal capacity.  So after the watering, I returned to the well tank and filled it only halfway and sat it by the bath.  I would have to fill it twice as often now, but at least I could get a most of a gallon out of it.  Better than nothing.

               We are a lot like that watering can.  We should be filled to the capacity that God intended, but too often we don’t hold even half of it.  Paul tells us we each receive a different gift according to the grace of God, Rom 12:6; Peter tells us to use that gift as a good steward of God’s grace, 1 Pet 4:10.  Holes in the can mean we are not using those gifts as God designed, squandering His grace in the process. 

              Sometimes we deny the grace.  “I can’t do that,” we say, when God has clearly put an opportunity in front of us.  Have you ever given someone a gift and had them tell you that you didn’t?  Of course not.  Everyone knows that the giver knows what he gave, yet here we are being so ridiculous as to tell God He most certainly did not give us any gifts.  God does not put opportunities in front of us that He has not given us the ability to handle.  More than anyone else—even more that we ourselves—He knows what we can and cannot do.  Denying the His grace is simply disobedience.

              Sometimes we cheat the grace.  “I’m too busy,” we tell people when something comes up.  Never mind that the opportunity is squarely within my wheelhouse—if I don’t want to do it, being busy is the excuse of the day.  In fact, sometimes we make ourselves busy with things we prefer in order to avoid more difficult spiritual obligations.  It’s easier to work late one night than go visit a weak brother.  It’s more fun to work out with a peer (“keeping my temple healthy”) than learn how to study with an older Christian who wants to share his hard-earned knowledge.  Shopping must be done, but it is certainly less trouble—and a lot quicker--to go shopping alone than to take an older person who is no longer able to get out on her own.  And thus our busy-ness has kept us from filling ourselves to capacity.

              Sometimes we do our best to spoil the grace by poking the hole in ourselves.  God has a purpose for each one of us.  I can sabotage those plans by my own selfish choices in life.  Worldliness and materialism can diminish my capacity for the spiritual.  Bad habits can ruin a reputation and make me less effective.  Bad decisions can make me unfit for God’s original plan for me.  Even if I turn myself around and repent, I may never again have the same impact I would have if I had made better choices earlier in life.  I may very well have drilled a hole in the can so that it will only hold half or less what God intended it to hold.

              Take a good look at your watering can this morning.  God knows better than you how much it can hold.  Don’t deny the grace; don’t squander the opportunities.  Don’t drill a hole where one doesn’t belong.  Capacity is His business, not yours, and what He wants is an overflowing can.
 
Now in a great house there are not only vessels of gold and silver but also of wood and clay, some for honorable use, some for dishonorable. Therefore, if anyone cleanses himself from what is dishonorable, he will be a vessel for honorable use, set apart as holy, useful to the master of the house, ready for every good work, 2 Timothy 2:20-21.
 
Dene Ward

My roses are gorgeous.  Besides the Knock-out bush rose, which will truly knock you out several times a year with thirty or forty pink blooms on a three foot high bush, I have three climbers on a wire trellis.  One is that old red standby, Climbing Blaze.  One is its cousin, the red-orange Blaze of Glory, and the third is a yellow variety I have long since forgotten the name of, with the largest blooms of any climber I have ever seen.  Then for something extra, we refused to prune off the limbs that came from the rootstock and now that yellow one also carries with it limb after limb of maroon blooms along the entire length of each branch.  One morning we counted over seventy-five blooms on those three plants.

              I keep the deadheads trimmed to promote blooming, but one week I was a little late getting to that chore and found half a dozen "rose hips," the fruit of a rose that grows where the pollinated flower bloomed, a swelling that gradually turns color as it ripens, usually red or orange, but sometimes purple or even black.  Although you have to be careful with preparation, rose hips can be used for tea, jelly, syrups, seasoning, and even fruit leather.  Occasionally, I have thought about harvesting some and trying the jelly, but here's the deal:  if you let the hips form, you will have fewer blooms.  Right now, I don't need any sustenance from rose hips.  What I want are the beautiful blooms.

              Ah, but while that may be fine for rose hips, it certainly isn't fine for my life as a Christian.  God wants something useful out of me.   He doesn't care how I look on the outside, but only how I act and the state of my heart on the inside.  If all I am is a pretty blossom on the outside, but I am bearing no fruit, whether by good deeds or spiritual growth, I am fit for nothing but to be "cast into the fire and burned" (John 15:6).

              We can take it a step further to whole churches.  The building may be an architectural marvel, as many ancient churches are, but what is going on inside?  Do they produce Christians?  If the pure gospel doesn't echo down their halls, and all they evoke is appreciation of their apses, naves, stained glass, painted ceilings, and sculpted icons, just exactly how is it that God is glorified?  Even so let your light shine before men; that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven. (Matt 5:16)

              Most of the time we understand that the fruit is the important thing.  Here in Florida the orange blossom is the state flower and its smell, as you drive the rolling hills of Central Florida orange groves, nearly overpowering.  In my garden, those pale yellow, maroon-centered okra blooms are truly gorgeous.  But those things and others are grown for their fruit, not their blooms.  Don't let your beautiful rose bushes lead you astray on that.
 
And even now the axe lies at the root of the trees: every tree therefore that brings not forth good fruit is hewn down, and cast into the fire. (Matt 3:10)

Dene Ward

This year we picked our first garden produce in early April.  Finding that first inch long green bean hiding among the thick spade-shaped foliage gives you a thrill, but seeing the first shiny green silks spewing out of the corn shucks and the tassels creeping out of the top positively makes your mouth water.  When it has been nearly a year since sinking your teeth into a row of crisp, juicy, buttered and salted kernels, the anticipation is intense.
 
             If you are not a gardener you might not truly appreciate the sacrifice of the firstfruits under the Old Law.  Every gardener knows that the first picking is the best.  As time passes, the corn and beans toughen.  The tomatoes and peppers become smaller and smaller and rot more quickly from the many blemishes.  The cucumbers turn yellow and overblown before they reach their full length.  Yet we have the frozen food section at the grocery store and a produce section that brings food from places where the firstfruits are just appearing.  Many of us have never seen anything but the firstfruits.

              I’ve often heard that certain frozen and canned vegetables are more reliably good than the fresh.  They are picked at their peak and processed within hours.  We can have the best any time of the year, and we take it for granted.  The devout Israelite never had that opportunity.  It was ingrained in
 him from birth:  the best belongs to the Lord.
 
             All the best of the oil, and all the best of the vintage, and of the grain, the first-fruits of them which they give unto Jehovah...The first-ripe fruits of all that is in their land, which they bring unto Jehovah… (Numbers 18:12-13)
 
             As a dedicated Hebrew watched his crops grow, his cattle bear, his vines hang lower and lower with the heaviness of ripening fruit, he knew that the best would not be for him, but an offering to the Lord.

              And this shall be the priests' due from the people, from them that offer a sacrifice, whether it be ox or sheep, that they shall give unto the priest the shoulder, and the two cheeks, and the maw. The first-fruits of your grain, of your new wine, and of your oil, and the first of the fleece of your sheep, shall you give him. For Jehovah your God has chosen him out of all your tribes, to stand to minister in the name of Jehovah, him and his sons forever. Deuteronomy 18:3-5.

              The pious Israelite knew that the best of the fruits of his labor would be eaten not by his family, but by Jehovah’s priests, his representatives on earth. 

              The first of the first-fruits of your ground you shall bring into the house of Jehovah your God. Exodus 23:19.

              Not just the firstfruits, but the first of the firstfruits—the best of the best—was required in his service to God.

              Most of us have learned that our weekly contribution of money must be “purposed” (2 Cor 9:7).  But we haven’t learned to apply that axiom to every aspect of our lives.  Too often God gets nothing but our leftover time, our leftover energy, our leftover effort.  I’ve heard Christians talk about exercising when their bodies are at their peak, about avoiding certain times of the day for important work, about matching body rhythms to tasks.  Do we ever talk like that our about service to God?  Do we offer service that is well planned, organized for maximum efficiency, and timed for greatest effect?  Yes, we often talk about caring for our temples (bodies) so we can use them for God, but then we use all that energy for everything else instead and still God gets the leftovers.

              The principle of the firstfruits was so important that Hezekiah included it in his great restoration (2 Chron 31:5).  It was deemed so necessary to a true attitude of worship that Nehemiah charged the returning exiles to keep those ordinances in particular (Neh 10:35-39).

              We sing a hymn:  “Give of Your Best to the Master.”  That principle has not changed.  In fact, we are the firstfruits (James 1:18), “brought forth by the word of truth.”  As such, God expects us to give ourselves.  If we do, the rest will follow.  If it hasn’t, maybe we need to take a closer look at our “devotion.”
 
…but they first gave themselves to God…2 Cor 8:5.                                    
 
Dene Ward                                                           

My largest flower bed, a couple of hundred square feet, is about 75% volunteers.  Every year I plant a couple of new things, but by and large the plot reseeds itself with black-eyed Susans, zinnias, marigolds, and Mexican petunias.  Instead of planned formality it becomes a riot of color—orange, red, rust, pink, burgundy, purple, white, and tons of yellow.  About the first of June it is at its best, and has even been featured in the photos of friends and family.

              The black-eyed Susans have a way of coming up just about anywhere—in the field, in the yard, up by the gate, around the bird feeders.  I never know where one will shoot up during any given spring. A shallow ditch runs along the west side of my large riotous flower bed.  This year that ditch was full of black-eyed Susans—even more than in the bed.

              As the spring progressed, that ditch also became full of weeds and grass.  I spent over an hour one morning cleaning it out.  Along with it went some of those pretty, brown-centered, yellow flowers.  I thought about it long and hard, but I knew this:  those weeds would just get more and more entrenched and eventually choke out the flowers anyway.  And even if they didn’t, the flowers would just call attention to the tall grass around them, and all anyone would think would be, “Ugh.”  So I transplanted what I could back into the bed, hoping they would survive the rough treatment of having grass roots pulled out from among their own, and then just chopped out the rest along with all the weeds.  It’s not like I didn’t have a plethora of them anyway.  They are all over the property.

              Which brings me to this:  what we often think of as beauty can be completely overwhelmed by ugliness.  Why can’t our young men see that a beautiful young girl is anything but beautiful when she acts like a trollop and dresses like a harlot?  Why can’t a young woman see that a handsome young man spoils those good looks with the filthy words that come out of his mouth and the intemperate behavior of a drunk, or a lecher, or anything else he allows to control his life?  Why don’t they understand that if they are only attracted by outward beauty, their values are as shallow as a drop of water on a hot griddle, and just as likely to evaporate?  Maybe because we haven’t taught them any better.

              Many years ago I stood in the receiving line at a wedding and heard a few feet away a woman who claimed to be a Christian saying, “He’s such a good looking young man.  It’s a shame he couldn’t find someone prettier.”  Never mind the young bride in question had a beautiful and loving character, she wasn’t pretty enough on the outside.

              I have heard women getting excited over a new dress or a new pair of shoes and then bored about a conversion.  I have seen men eagerly discussing cars or guns or sports, and turning away in apathy at a spiritual discussion.  I have seen people happy to discuss their misfortunes to anyone who will listen, while ignoring their blessings.  Do you think our children don’t see these examples?

              We teach them what to care most about, and they follow our examples all through their lives.  If I want my child to develop a deep relationship with God, then it’s time I had one myself.

              Tell your children what true beauty is, and then show them.  Make yourself beautiful with your good works, with your kind demeanor, with your loving spirit.  If you don’t, they may never learn what constitutes true beauty until they are mired in a horrible relationship that eventually ruins their lives.  The flowers in the ditch may be beautiful, but is that really where you want them to spend their lives?
             
Like a gold ring in a pig’s snout is a beautiful woman with no discretion, Prov 11:22.
 
Dene Ward

Air plants are epiphytes, which means they grow without soil.  They grow naturally on tree limbs or trunks, and can easily be grown in a terrarium indoors—usually those clear round balls people hang in their windows.  They do need watering once a week, and then they need to be allowed to dry out before they are watered again so they won't rot, but otherwise it is pretty hard to kill an air plant.  Some garden shops even call them "unkillable," which is surprising since it looks like we have managed to kill one.
 
             A neighbor gave us a staghorn fern.  It is large, probably weighing in at about forty pounds.  No, we did not kill that one, which would have amounted to burying good money in the ground.  Those things are worth a pretty penny.  Our neighbor has been offered several hundred dollars for her hundred pound specimen.  But we did remove two of the babies from ours, place them in nylon netting and then hang them on one of live oak trunks.  One is doing great, already producing more fronds, but the other is on its last legs, so to speak.  It has been that way for at least two months, which tells me this:  air plants may not be unkillable, but they certainly take a long time to die.

              I think I have seen a few air plants on the pews on Sunday mornings.  I guess they take in enough nutrients from the "atmosphere" they sit in to hang on for a good while.  Yet they never grow, they never bloom and put out new growth, and eventually they turn brittle and gray.  Finally they starve to death and completely dry up.  You would, too, if you only ate one small meal a week. 

              Those spiritual air plants may take years to finally give it up.  The thing is, even a dry, gray air plant can be revived with a good soak in the water.  If we find ourselves at death's spiritual door, we need a good soak in the Living Water to revive us.  After that, it's up to us to keep on growing, taking in what we need to not only survive, but thrive.  Then we can truly be "unkillable."
 
Be horrified at this, heavens; be shocked and utterly appalled. This is the LORD’s declaration.  For My people have committed a double evil: They have abandoned Me, the fountain of living water, and dug cisterns for themselves, cracked cisterns that cannot hold water. (Jer 2:12-13)

​Jesus said, “Everyone who drinks from this water will get thirsty again.  But whoever drinks from the water that I will give him will never get thirsty again — ever! In fact, the water I will give him will become a well of water springing up within him for eternal life.” (John 4:13-14)
 
Dene Ward
 

We planted them late by Florida standards, so I was just pulling carrots the first week of June.  It wasn’t difficult; I pulled the whole row in about 15 minutes.  Still, it was disappointing—a twenty foot row yielded a two and a half gallon bucket of carrots that turned into a two quart pot full when they were cleaned and sorted, cutting off the tops and tossing those that were pencil thin or bug-eaten.
 
             Then I thought, well, consider the remnant principle in the Bible.  Out of all the people in the world, even granting that the population was much less than it is now, only eight were saved at the Flood.  Out of all the nations in the world, God only chose one as His people.  Out of all those, only one tribe survived the Assyrians, and out of all those, only a few survived the Babylonians and only some of those eventually returned to the land.

              Jesus spoke of the wide gate and the narrow gate.  Surely that tells us that though God wishes all to be saved, only a few will be.  So out of a twenty foot row of carrots, I probably threw out half.  Then we threw out a third of those that were too small to even try to scrub and peel.  Yet, we probably did better with our carrots than the Lord will manage with people!  And I learned other principles too.

              When I pulled those carrots some of them had full beautiful tops, green, thick-stemmed, and smelling of cooked carrots when I lopped them off.  Yet under all that lush greenery several had very little carrot at all.  They were superficial carrots—all show and no substance.  Others were pale and bitter, hardly good for eating without adding a substantial amount of sugar.  Then under some thin, sparse tops, I often found a good-sized root, deep orange and sweet.  Yes, they were all the same variety, but something happened to them in the growth process.

              Some of us are all top and no root.  It always surprises me when a man who is so regular in his attendance has so little depth to his faith.  Surely sitting in a place where the Word is taught on a consistent basis should have given him something, even if just by osmosis.  But no, it takes effort to absorb the Word of God and more effort to put it into practice, delving deeper and deeper into its pages and considering its concepts.  The Pharisees could quote scripture all day, but they lacked the honesty to look at themselves in its reflection.

              And there are some of us who have little to show on the outside, but a depth no one will know until a tragedy strikes, or an attack on the faith arises, or a need presents itself, and suddenly they are there, standing for the truth, showing their faith, answering the call.  I knew one man who surprised us all with his strength in the midst of trial, a quiet man hardly anyone ever noticed.  Yet his steadfastness under pressure was remarkable.  I knew another who had been loud with his faith, nearly boasting in his confidence that he was strong, yet who shocked us all with his inability to accept the will of God, his assertions that he shouldn’t have to bear such a burden when he had been so faithful for so long.  Truly those carrot tops will fool you if you aren’t careful.  “Judge not by appearance,” Jesus said, “but judge righteous judgment.”  Look beneath those leafy greens and see where and how your root lies.

              Evidently the principles stand both for man and carrots.  Don’t count on your outward show, your pedigree in the faith.  Develop a deep root, one that will grow sweeter as time passes and strong enough to stand the heat of trial. 

              And don’t assume you are in the righteous remnant if that righteousness hasn’t been tested lately.  God hates more to throw out people than I hate to throw out carrots, but He will.  Don’t spend so much time preening your tops that your root withers.  And finally, only a few will make it to the table; make sure you are one of them.
 
Behold, I stand at the door and knock: if any man hear my voice and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me. Revelation 3:20           
 
Dene Ward      

For two or three years now, an elephant ear has grown at the southwest corner of the house.  This year several shoots came up, and all of them bloomed.  I never knew an elephant ear bloomed at all.  Here is the amazing part—I never planted an elephant ear bulb.

              I have had caladiums on the west side for many years now.  They are always the last things up--in May--and the first things to die back—in August.  Occasionally, probably due to the vagaries of a North Florida winter, they simply disappear.  That means I go to the farm store and prowl among the bulb boxes to replace them.  The boxes are clearly labeled, including full color pictures.  That way, if I need to replace a red one, I can find it.  If the pink one has gone the way of all things, I look for the pink picture.  There is absolutely no way to make a mistake unless you are blind or just don't look at the boxes.

              But here is the law of nature:  I simply must have planted an elephant ear bulb.  How did this happen without me knowing it?  Probably a clerk put it in the wrong box.  Those bulbs all look pretty much alike.  If the wrong bulb is in the box and someone picks it up, she would never know until the plant came up in the spring.  So in reality, I did plant an elephant ear, albeit accidentally.

              The same thing happens every day of your life.  You are planting seed and don't even know it.  People watch you, especially people who know you claim to be a believer.  You may accidentally plant an elephant ear instead of a caladium just because you weren't paying attention to the picture on the box.  You didn't think it mattered when you lost your temper.  You didn't think anyone would notice when you exacted a little retribution.  You were blissfully unaware of the audience watching your performance with the waitress or the store clerk or someone else who gave you less than you thought your patronage deserved.

              And worse than that, elephant ears bloom.  They spread, just like mine, proliferating into more people who are also affected by your words and your behavior.  You never know how far your influence will go from simple word of mouth or now, through the internet and the thousands who read one post from a person who had to deal with a Christian choosing to act like something else.

              The good news is you can plant caladiums just as easily, and even accidentally.  People notice good these days and it spreads like wildfire—or a virus, I suppose is the term.  You are always planting something whether you know it or not.  Make sure it's caladiums.
 
The sins of some people are conspicuous, going before them to judgment, but the sins of others appear later.  So also good works are conspicuous, and even those that are not cannot remain hidden. (1Tim 5:24-25)                                             
Dene Ward

Crepe myrtles are the super-plant of Florida summers.  Despite the heat, they bloom and seem to thrive, while everything else wilts and often dies.  The garden is over by the first of July, and the flower bed is far past its prime, but those crepe myrtles just keep on going, looking better than ever.  And it's all because of Andre Michaux.
 
             Michaux was not an aristocrat.  Born on March 8, 1746, he was the son of a French farmer who lived in the shadow of Versailles.  He was educated, as most Frenchmen were at the time, in the classics.  At 14, his father took him and his brother out of school to learn agriculture, a respected career at the time, and he soon showed a great affinity for making practically anything grow.

              When his wife of eleven months, Cecile Claye, died a few days after childbirth in 1770, he was devastated.  As we say these days, she was his soulmate, and he never married again.  In fact, the area surrounding him became unbearable with sad memories.  He soon came to the attention of Louis XVI's physician, who persuaded him to study botany.  Before long he became the Royal botanist and was sent on missions to find new trees and plants, specifically to revitalize stripped French forests, and leaving his new son with his grandparents, was happy to get away.  After that his life reads like an adventure novel, with treks to all parts of Asia, Africa, and the wilderness of North America, riding for miles on horseback, canoeing down uncharted rivers, and once being kidnapped by hostile tribes. 

              And here is where we find Andre and the crepe myrtle.  Originally from China it was first taken to England.  No one was impressed.  England was too cold a climate, even in the summer, for it to bloom.  So in 1786, Michaux brought it to the American South instead.  "Voila!" Michaux might have said in his native French.  This plant loved the heat, the humidity, and any type of soil you stuck it in.  He is also credited with introducing the mimosa and the camellia here in the South.

              So thanks to Andre Michaux, we had been looking for crepe myrtles for a while, the bush variety, not the trees.  Nathan and Brooke gave us some shoots that had come up around theirs and we gratefully planted them, and kept on looking for those bushes.  I am still not sure there is actually a difference in the plant, as one article I read said, or if it is all about how it is pruned, but after five or six years we still hadn’t found what we wanted, and that fall noticed the seed pods on our transplants.  We looked at each other and said, “Well, I’ve never heard of doing it before, but why not plant those seeds in some nursery pots?”

              We did, and guess what?  In spite of the fact that we had never heard of doing it before, they grew!  This past spring we transplanted 8 one foot high crepe myrtles from that nursery pot experiment, all of which are blooming just fine in the Florida summer.             

              Haven’t you heard it?  Someone comes up with an idea for spreading the gospel—one that is not beyond the bounds of God’s authority—but someone else pipes up, “I never heard of doing that before,” and expects that to be the end of the discussion.  In fact it often is, especially when prefaced by “Why, I’ve been a Christian for forty years...”  I wonder how many things would never have been done if everyone had that notion? 

              And the king made from the algum wood supports for the house of the LORD and for the king's house, lyres also and harps for the singers. There never was seen the like of them before in the land of Judah, 2 Chronicles 9:11

              The throne had six steps, and at the back of the throne was a calf's head, and on each side of the seat were armrests and two lions standing beside the armrests, while twelve lions stood there, one on each end of a step on the six steps. The like of it was never made in any kingdom, 1Kgs 10:20.

              And because of all your abominations I will do with you what I have never yet done, and the like of which I will never do again. Ezekiel 5:9.

              He has confirmed his words, which he spoke against us and against our rulers who ruled us, by bringing upon us a great calamity. For under the whole heaven there has not been done anything like what has been done against Jerusalem, Daniel 9:12.

              God didn’t seem to have any trouble accepting Solomon’s unique adornments for his throne and for the Temple.  He wasn’t above using punishments the like of which no one had ever seen before.  He certainly didn’t mind confounding the world by sacrificing His Son for our sins.  Aren’t you glad?

              We might be in bad company if “I’ve never heard of doing that before” becomes the source of authority for our actions. 

              As they were going away, behold, a demon-oppressed man who was mute was brought to him. And when the demon had been cast out, the mute man spoke. And the crowds marveled, saying, "Never was anything like this seen in Israel." But the Pharisees said, "He casts out demons by the prince of demons," Matthew 9:32-34.

              Jesus didn’t fit their preconceived notions so they accused Him of consorting with the Devil.  I’ve heard Christians come close when someone suggested something new to reach the lost, especially if it cost any money. 

              God tells us every word and action should be by His authority, not by whether we’ve heard of it or not.  I wouldn’t have any crepe myrtles if we had followed that dictum—and none of us would have a hope of salvation.
 
For from of old men have not heard, nor perceived by the ear, neither hath the eye seen a God besides thee, who works for him that waits for him, Isaiah 64:4.
 
Dene Ward