Defining Weeds

I spent most of the day outdoors under gray skies, listening to the woods whisper secrets high in the canopy above me. Tired from playing in the dirt, I retreat to my craft room to do another kind of work. Surrounded by big windows, I feel as if I am in a comfortable, carpeted tree house. I open one, to smell the woods, and I notice it has finally begun to rain. 

The rain is soft and the woods are still. The robins and blue jays and woodpeckers that have been noisily courting and gathering materials for nests are suddenly quiet, nestled high in the arms of the wet woods.

And in this lovely moment, as I cut brightly colored pieces of fabric into little pieces and sew them back together again, I am thinking about....weeds.

We have these tenacious plants in abundance. And after observing the first year's lifecycle up at Sanctuary, I realized this truth: I would need to come to terms with them if I want to spend the remainder of my days doing anything other than pulling them.

My college botany teacher defined a weed as any plant that grows where you don't want it to. Over the years I've pondered this, trying to decide its veracity. And now, after all these years, a light comes on. 

Discounting the land down behind the fence that slopes toward the creek, and the land covered with buildings and blacktop, I figure I have about one and a half acres of gardens and woods to manage. I google weed management for small rural properties and find that my strategy should be 'prevention, eradication, and control'. 

Too late for prevention. 

I spent most of a day working on eradication and barely made a dent.

Hmmm. Control. Control has possibilities. Nix on chemicals. Ditto for livestock (although I can actual see a few goats as a possibility sometime in our future). However, I am becoming something of an expert at good old fashioned pulling and hoeing.

I pull and hoe in the East Garden, where I took such delight in discovering deep purple iris, giant orange oriental poppies, and bright pink peonies. I love this garden. I see it out my kitchen window as I work. The deer love it, too.

The West Garden

I also pull and hoe in the West Garden. This one was quite a mess with dog-ugly fencing, and all the growing things run amok and mostly buried in wood chips left from the clean up of a large downed oak branch prior to our ownership. National Asset removed the fencing for me. I cleaned up the garden. We planted new things. But the deer love this one, too. So we put back some of the fencing, to give the new young bushes and trees a fighting chance. 

And...I pull and hoe in the Gate Garden, a strip of earth near the top of our long driveway that brings chocolate red velvet cake to mind after it has been soaked with rain. The deer like this one as well, but they don't touch my friend Hilary's narcissus that I planted in the hollowed out tree stumps, or the nandina I transplanted from other places. I consider this something of a success. Just don't ask me about the forsythia...

So here is where my botany teacher's definition of weeds comes into play. If weeds are plants that grow where you don't want them to, then things like the velcro plant - which has pretty fernlike leaves and delicate violet flowers and produces millions upon millions of teensy tiny seeds that attach to everything they touch with the tenacity of velcro - are only weeds in the areas where I don't want them to grow. 

I definitely don't want them to grow in my three designated garden areas. I don't want them to grow in places where I walk regularly, or where the grandchildren play, or in the gravel-covered driveways that surround our buildings and provide a defensible space against forest fire. In these areas, they are unequivocally classified as weeds. 

But if I simply train myself to think about the rest of the woods and the places behind the outbuildings and the hillside down to the creek (which collectively accounts for most of the property) as areas where I don't really mind if they grow, are they magically no longer weeds? 

I smile at this thought. I would no longer have to pull them out by the thousands. I would simply wear my wellies when I go a-walking through these areas so I don't have to pluck the nasty little seeds from my clothing. 

This is a definition for weeds I think I can live with. 

My Shepherd Will Supply My Need

Can there be a more beloved Psalm than the one penned by the shepherd-king, the one described as a man after God's own heart? 

I am referring to David's Psalm 23, of course. It is probably the most recognizable and most frequently memorized piece of Scripture in the world. It has brought comfort to all kinds of people in all kinds of trouble. It became my prayer during the long day of labor while we waited for our little Amanda to be born. I would get to the part about walking through the valley of death...and would have to start over. I was fearing evil that dark day, and even though I could not seem to stop, the words reassured me of God's persistent presence. 

Psalm 23's deeply moving words have been set to many different tunes, by many different composers. But I think I have to agree with my friend Doug, who claimed this version as his favorite. Isaac Watts set David's words to an old Southern Harmony tune. Here you will find children singing it to a nation in distress, three days after 9/11.

Resignation.

My Shepherd will supply my need
Jehovah is His name.
In pastures fresh He makes me feed
beside the living stream.
He brings my wandering spirit back
when I forsake His ways,
And leads me, for His mercy's sake,
In paths of truth and grace.

When I walk through the shades of death 
His presence is my stay;
One word of His supporting grace
drives all my fears away.
His hand, in sight of all my foes, 
doth still my table spread;
My cup with blessings overflows,
His oil anoints my head.

The sure provisions of my God
attend me all my days;
O may Thy house be my abode,
and all my work be praise.
There would I find a settled rest 
while others go and come;
no more a stranger, nor a guest,
but like a child at home.


Psalm 23 enables us to express the gamut of human fear and sorrow and hope. But the Lord's Day we celebrate as a day of joy, because on it, He rose again.* Our Amanda would have been thirty this year. We do not forget those we have lost to the valley of the shadow of death. But knowing that Jesus has broken the power of sin and death enables us to know "joy unspeakable and full of glory."+ 

Have a blessed Lord's Day. Our Shepherd has supplied all that we need.



*  Peter, the bishop of Alexandria in Egypt, 306 AD.
+1 Peter 1:8

Uncle Bill and the Bible Readers League

The day is young, bright and hot. Gusty Santa Ana winds rush through our big Magnolia tree, bringing down last year's seed pods even as new blossoms begin to form. I have just finished my morning devotions, sitting here by the big front window. Wind chimes sing, the tree dances, and I brace myself for another hot, dry day.

Reading Jesus' words have been particularly meaningful this morning, touching on areas of my soul where there was particular need. I love it when God's Word becomes so recognizably alive in such a specific way.

I have been a Bible reader for almost as long as I have been able to read. I grew up in a Christian family who attended church each and every Sunday, who read a piece of Scripture every night at the dinner table. But it was a complete stranger who encouraged me to read my Bible, on my own, every day - for five years straight. His name was Uncle Bill.

I remember getting three magazines in our home when I was young:  Farm Journal; The Banner;  and Christian Home and School. The first was for my Dad, a dairyman. The other two were products of our church's denomination. Even though I was an avid reader, to be honest, I never found much of interest in any of them. Except for Uncle Bill's page.

Uncle Bill was the principal of a Christian school in Ontario, Canada and the creator of the 'Bible Reader's League'. When I was seven I discovered this league in the Christian Home and School magazine. Uncle Bill wrote a little story or message in it monthly, and he listed the names of his readers who had reached one of his landmark dates by reading their Bibles daily.

I wanted to join this league in the worst way, probably so I, too, could get my name printed in a magazine. My mom let me write him a letter requesting to join (remember, I was just finishing 2nd grade at the time) and in response I received a hand-printed letter and the first of four cards I would eventually receive.

This blue piece of card stock simply said: 

Bible Reader's Prayer

"Open Thou mine eyes, Lord, that I may behold wondrous things out of Thy law..."

This is to certify that

Kathy Koops

has promised to read a part of the Bible every evening

before going to sleep, and is therefore a

MEMBER of the BIBLE READERS' LEAGUE

as of 

Date: April 1963

That was it. That was the whole program. One letter and I was in. It was completely an honor system. No signed sheets by parents. No forms to check off daily.

And I actually did it. I read a portion of the Bible every night before going to sleep for five years. Sometimes it was a very small portion, just a few verses. And on the infrequent times I slept over at a friend's or cousin's house I would take my Bible with me and read it secretly in the bathroom.

After one year of this, I wrote to Uncle Bill, reporting that I had read every night. I received another hand-written letter from this man, along with the Green Certificate. It was bigger and more decorative than the Blue Certificate, and it recognized me as a Regular Bible Reader for ONE year "and on the promise to remain a PERMANENT MEMBER of the Bible Readers' League."

I had to read for two more years to receive the Red Certificate, and at the end of five years I got the Gold Certificate with Uncle Bill's accompanying letter penned on a gold sheet of paper. 

This is what he wrote:

May 3, 1968.

My Dear Niece, Kathy,
Your letter came today and deserves an immediate answer. Congratulations to you as you have now completed the entire 5-year course of our BRL. You have earned the Gold Certificate. Here it is.

I hope  you will treasure your certificates, but most of all I pray that the Bible reading habit may be a treasured habit which you will maintain and cherish as long as God gives you the ability to read.

It is good to hear that you have found this daily reading of God's Word useful in your life and in your work. I trust that you will find much more than this through your daily devotions. May these be the moments when you and your heavenly Father are very near to each other, for when you read the sacred Word it is none other than God Himself speaking to you. That is the deepest reason why we have this BRL. And that is the greatest blessing God can give us here on earth for His Word is the Word of Life.

And so we have probably come to the end of our correspondence. Looking back now, I'm sure you feel that the 5 years do not seem as long as they did when you started with the Blue Card.

Thank you for your good wishes. God be with you.

Greetings & love from your Uncle Bill

Uncle Bill was right. Reading the Bible is my most treasured habit, and I have found the much more he referred to.

It is not just intellectual knowledge I have acquired through the habit of regular Bible reading. Yes, I do know what the Bible contains, and if I ever become a contestant on a game show where the only topic is the Bible, I'd have a good shot at winning. But reading the Bible is more than this. Much more.

Over the course of my life, God's Word, the Word of Life as Uncle Bill called it, has reshaped me from the inside out. It has caused me to look at myself and at my life - my family history, my personality, my weaknesses and natural abilities, my desire for meaning and purpose, my need to be loved - and find out who I really am.  And the truth is that as I learned about who Jesus is, I also found my identity.

I am His beloved daughter. (Galatians 3:26)

I have been redeemed through His sacrifice on my behalf. (Colossians 1:13-14)

I no longer belong to the dark side of life, but live in the light of His unconditional love. 
(1 John 1:6-7)

I am not perfect, but I press on towards the goal of being who God created me to be. (Philippians 3:13-14)

I rest in the promise of eternity in heaven with Jesus. (1 John 1:11-12)

I have found that in Jesus Christ, I am a new creature; the old me that had been fractured by sin has passed away; the new life that God is building in me has taken root and is growing. (2 Corinthians 5:17)

Do you have a list of people you would like to meet in heaven? Uncle Bill is on mine. This man taught me that the simple habit of regularly reading the Bible is the conduit through which God shows me how much He loves me. I have been changed by that love.

I wonder how many years Uncle Bill led the Bible Readers League, and how many hand-written letters he mailed to all his 'nieces' and 'nephews', and how many of them - now parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles - were also changed by the Word of Life. 

What an amazing legacy!