"Simply to Thy Cross I Cling" by Mary Navarro

As genealogists hunting for information in

cemeteries across the Eastern US, my husband

and I find thousands of indications of faith

among our ancestors. But my favorite testimony of all time is written on a base plate stone that supports a very realistic looking angel statue in Key West Florida.  The stones there are bleached whiter than stones in some cemeteries. And some of the graves are above ground, due to the threat of flooding I suppose. But the beauty of this marker is remarkable whether or not you draw close enough to read the stone. One of the angel's hands is formed to hold the stem(s) of flowers, and a dried Gladiola was there at the time. I smiled when I saw it because Glads are one of my favorite flowers. A wreath was held by the left hand, and I am not sure of its significance, but it was the stone that held the most impact for me. I shall never forget this lady because of what was written on her stone:

         Mary Navarro

         1863 - 1907
"Simply To Thy Cross
           I Cling"

Everytime a hurricane threatens the Key West, Florida area I pray that nothing will happen to that statue and it's base plate, or of course to Mary's plot. I felt as if I were standing by the grave of a friend. I never knew Mary, and know nothing of her family or her life.  I only know that at age 43, Mary's simple testimony was that she only was clinging to the Cross of our Savoir. I hope to see her one day in Heaven. It is said that this cemetery at the heart of the township of Key West is one of the most visited cemeteries in the US.  I can only hope that many a visitor has been drawn to that beautiful angel, and read the testimony of Mary Navarro who had the faith to write her testimony for all to see.  Thank you Mary.  I hope to visit your beautiful resting place once more in my life and I hope your angel will still be standing there.  You knew you had angels watching over you, and you knew where to place your faith. 

Lord, I can't think of a more fitting spot to place the message of the cross, and I thank you for Mary who was thinking of how people might be led to think about you when they visited this lovely old cemetery. I pray once more as I often have, that someone will read Mary's note and be led to cling to the cross as she had. Let her testimony direct others to a loving savior, to whom they may cling in life and in death. AMEN

Noah's great big boat

Sometimes it is tough to do what you know God has you doing. It seems that so many other people think you should be doing something you are not. And what you are doing doesn't suit many people. I have tried so often to get a job doing something besides making flower arrangements. I have been treated like I was unintelligent, because I was a floral designer. I sometimes wonder what my life would have been like if I had gone on to college and used my 4.2 grade average, and done what all my years of advanced education had me on track to do.  Life didn't turn out the way I planned it. Money was the biggest culprit, but love was also a reason why I changed my direction. So why don't I believe I should feel like a failure when here I am again, wondering what God is doing in my life now.  It certainly isn't what I planned, and it isn't what everyone else thinks I should be doing.  However, I am sure I am where God put me.
And I look back to someone else who God put in a place that took way too long to suit other people, who was doing something that made no sense to anyone, that didn't pay up front, and purhaps never in money. That someone made a great big boat, and his name was Noah.  Noah knew how to make the most important Boat ever made.  So Noah was being who God made him to be, in the place God put him. Out of a job so to speak for a very long time.
I am an artist. I have been an artist for all my life and God has put me in a place that I must be an artist and learn to be better at it. 
Now, my work will never save lives or be the best there ever was, but it will be true to who I am and where God put me for now.  So I am waiting on the Lord, but not waiting without being who I am. It is all I know to do.
There are a lot of people around me who are in a place where God has suddenly put them. It is not where they want to be. I see sickness, pain, loss, and so much more in all the lives of my friends.  Their families are hurting. 

Noah asked anyone who would to come in to the safety of the Ark. All we can do sometimes is ride out the storm, and it will often be strong enough to wash our world away.  So, what else is there to do but remember Noah, and God's promises to us. I really feel as if I have been through the roughest part of my storm, for now, and I am like Noah standing on the deck of his ship, letting the doves out to see if the water has receded.  That too is a place to be when God wants you to be there. Can you imagine what it would have been like for Noah's family if they had tried to leave the ark too soon? 
I pray for my friends and thier families, Lord, for some await the storm, some are in thier storm, and some await the day when you will allow them again onto dry land.  Let them all know they are where you want them to be. And for any who are building their future, give them strength to complete the task before the storms come.  Amen

In the Garden - a hymn

  As I was searching through old hymns, snippetts of an old song began to play in my head, but I just couldn't remember more than one complete line..."I come to the garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses...." I knew this song was more familiar to me than that. What made me sad, was these are the songs I loved and no one sang them much anymore. So I began to sing it out loud. And after about the second or third time..."and the voice I hear, something..on my ear??? La la "son of God..something something." Pause. And then: "And he walks with me, and he talks with me, and he tells me I am his own."  HOW could I have forgotten. What is the name of that song? "And the joy we share as we tarry there, None other has ever known!"  "What a theme song for my blog I thought."

Could it be in my old hymnal? Oh please be in my old hymnal. In the back of the hymnal an index of "first lines in lower caps" of the songs. And there it was: IN THE GARDEN, by C. Austin Miles.

"He speaks and the sound of His voice Is so sweet the birds hush their singing, And the melody That He gave to me, Within my heart is ringing." is vs 2.

These beautiful old songs are now part of the public domain, but it was originally copyrighted in 1912, and was used by permission in the 1940 copyrighted version of the Broadman Hymnal, by Broadman Press out of Nashville, TN. But now I am curious about Austin Miles.

Charles Austin Miles was born January 7, 1868 in Lakehurst, N. J. He lived til March 10, 1946 when he died in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. (March 10 is my dad's birthday.) Also known as A.A. Payn, he was educated to be a Pharmacist. Instead, he wrote his first song, "List 'Tis Jesus Voice" in 1892 at just the age of 24. Thereafter, he worked for his Publisher, Hall-Mack Co., for 37 years. He once said that he preferred to be remembered for his gospel songs not his work, for by that he could better serve his master. "I Have A Friend" seems to have been published 2 years after his death. It was one of 18 songs he is known to have written, along with 3 songs for which he wrote the music. Those included "Somebody's Praying for You."  Others that were very familiar to me were: "Dwelling in Beulah Land," "A New Name Written Down In Glory," "Wide, Wide as the Ocean," and "Win Them One By One."

If we consider the number of years in his adult life, and realize that while working a job, he was writing still - during those 54 years before his death, he averaged a piece of music about every 2 1/2 years.

When I thought about the fact that the hymnal was published in about 1940, I realized this man was a contemporary, even in his old age, of my mother and her family. When my grandmother was young, these were new songs to them. Did they learn them and sing them in church?  What was it like to sing them for the first time? Did they know they were singing the songs that woud stick in our heads and stay in our hearts? As time goes by, I hope and pray they are not lost.

My fondest memory of this song: This was one of several that as a child I sang at the top of my voice, riding my bike as the wind challenged me to sing ever louder. Unknowingly, I was building my diaphragm, something that accidentally gave me the ability to sing nicely when I was older.  For a while anyway.

~Lord, you considered the Psalms of David worthy of saving. Please don't let these old songs be lost especially in my heart, while I continue to live. Amen~

A Place to Come Back To

Squash Blossom

A garden is a place you return to each planting season. And then each evening when you pick the beans or corn. We return in the early morning sun to water and weed. It is where the farmer must go at season's end to plow under the wilted plants to nourish the soil. For so many reasons, it is a place to come back to.
That means it is a place of belonging. You never feel out of place. It is a place of quiet ususally, never crowded but you don't feel lonely. It is a place of purpose, and of plenty. It is a place of order. So your paths are certain. It is a place of wonder, and of life. It is a place of hope and expectation. It begins as seeds or seedlings with hopes of a yeild. When the plants wither and are plowed into the soil, it is because they are expected to give hope for good soil next year. It is a place of looking forward. Of planning and dreaming. It is a place where you get what you must do - done. And on a hot day a place to hurry your work along. But each day it is a place to return to.
For Jesus, Gethsemane was a place to return to. We don't know why he chose this garden. We only know it provided a place where he might pray. So for that reason alone it was a place to return to. I like however to imagine that it was a beautiful place so it was a place he liked to go. It must have been a place where all of the disciples could find rest, so it wasn't too small. I like to believe that it was a place they also liked to go. When God first formed Adam it was in a garden. So it must be a place of His heart's desire in which to commune with us.  Was it a place where they could find food for picking, shade from the sun, a place to be off the streets in the evening? A refuge - a place to be that was familiar and they liked being there.
If we think about a garden that frames the walk or directs you to the front door, it is there because it makes home a nicer place to come back to each day.
So often out in the world, I feel I don't belong. But in the presence of God when I return to pray, I never feel like I don't belong.  And to me, it is the best reason I know to have a prayer garden, a place I can come back to, because I know He wants me there.

I never believed one has to be in any certain place to pray. God hears us wherever we are. Jesus didn't have to go to Gethsemane to pray. The Father listened to Him and answered His prayers anywhere He was. Jesus chose to go there. Scripture instructs us to pray without ceasing. It wasn't a place to catch up on His prayers. It wasn't to face off with God, but Christ did choose this place to ask that His cup of misery be taken from Him. And a place where The Father came back with a resounding "NO." Was it the place where, away from the crowds, he could become vulnerable with the Father? Where He could pray for himself and the disciples instead of the thronging crowds? I think so. It was a private place. It was the place he went even though he knew it was the place he could be found. So it was the place of submission. I am an analytical person as anyone can see. So I over see into things sometimes. But on an emotional level, loving gardens the way I do, I believe it was a place to return to before the centurions came to take him away, because he wanted to visit there one last time.

My childhood home was like that. A place of garden memories, a place that I had to go back to one last time. I am thankful for the memories I have of past gardens there. There are a lot of bad things to cloud memories sometimes, but I go back there in my mind now and I think of - warm soft dirt in between my toes, the smells of vegetables as you past by the rows. I think of the buzzing of the bees in the okra blooms way above my head, the stakes and the string, the buckets and drinking water from the hose. I think of color and textures, fuzzy leaves, monkey faced snap dragon pods, discovery of the first tiny fruits and the wonderful meals made from the armloads of things that grew there. Wish I had one of those meals.  Yep, a garden is a place to come back to. I think of walking ahead of my daddy between the plow and his feet. He led me to believe I was plowing the rows. We planted fairly late because we lived so near the lights of a baseball park that the outfield lights made us able to see way past dark, and the air was cool and soil was warm. I remember the smell as the earth rolled over the blade of the plow. Daddy was kind then, patient and forgiving. He taught me how many seeds to a hole. He'ld say, "Don't press the soil down to hard, watch where you walk, don't miss a hole."  Now my Mama's garden, well that is another story. Daddy let us plant in his, Mama did her own. But the soil in their gardens was fertile and easy to dig. If I began to make parallels between being in the garden with my dad, and being in the prayer garden with God, I would be here forever. Which brings me to my last point of why Jesus went back to the Garden of Gethsemane. It was where he prayed, "Heavenly Father..." And the Father was there.

~Thank you Father for meeting me Here.~  

Flowers Draw Things To Them

It is impossible to be in a garden of any kind and not begin to be slightly annoyed at the critters either buzzing at your head or crawling over your feet. I never come in the house after taking pics or working in a flower garden without taking a shower, and it's not just to get the dirt off.  I have to check for ticks, and hopefully get the sumac and poison ivy oils off me. While in my garden, I frequently have to look down and be sure there isn't a spider crawling over me. And I never get home with a set of macros of flowers that, when I download them, I don't find a tiny bug somewhere in at least one of the shots that I never even knew was there.  On the bright side, it is a joy when a butterfly alights right under my nose, especially if it is content enough to stay and pose.

As I was thinking of how to begin to pray this morning, I was reflecting on the fact that flowers do draw things to them.  I think Jesus wanted us to take a lot of images from a garden.  And the one that comes to mind this morning is that a bloom on a plant is like God. It's sweet fragrance draws us near to breath it in - the Holy Spirit is referenced as like the wind. Like the unseen air we breath, we wouldn't notice His presence if we didn't "stop and smell the roses" sometimes. Remember He is present, and draw in an awareness of Him. Like the fragrance of a bloom which has the power to get brain chemicals moving and remind us someone loves us, there is power in His presence. In a month when flowers are so prized as the number one gift that represents love, I want to thank God that He is Love. And I remember that just like the rose has thorns, love is not always sweet.

In spite of the thorns, we like our roses. In spite of the bugs, I love a garden. But the thorns and the bugs and the poison stuff could distract me from what I go to the garden for.  If I wait until the sweat is running down my back, I don't pray much while I am there. I am distracted. If I wait until the mosquitos are about to carry me off, I am distracted. Just thinking of the stuff distracts me from focusing on what were God's first words to me this morning: "Flowers draw things to them."

~This morning, I want to be drawn to you, Lord.~

There, that is how simple it was. Not a long prayer. Just a response to the voice of God.  Before I get too distracted.

~Sweet Spirit of God, I acknowlege your presence in my soul today. Thank you for desiring to live in me, even when I forget you are there. Let us be drawn close to one another to walk as one, today. And whether it be by sweetness or by thorns, continue to remind me you are here to love me, even when the distractions lead my mind away. May I always be drawn to you like a bee to the flower, always in need of your sustenance, but always knowing exactly where to go. Amen ~

A Prayer Garden

I always wanted a prayer garden.  A place where I could tuck myself away amidst flowers and vines, down a path away from people and work, to where I could be inspired by God's beautiful things to comune with just Him.  In a way, when I take nature and macro floral pictures, I feel like I am looking closely into the place where God's mind is. I feel awed by the colors, shapes and fragrances of a garden.  And I feel one with Jesus who also liked a garden when he desired to pray. 
Once when the disciples asked Jesus to teach them to pray, he responded with the Lord's Prayer. But when it neared the time for him to go to the cross, he carried these disciples to the Garden of Gethsemane and asked them to pray with him.  He wanted their prayer support.  Did you ever try to get your kids to pray along with you. They fidget, and moan, and fall asleep. Just like the disciples did.  I wonder if Jesus had hoped the Garden would inspire them to see The Father and Creator in this place. Well they were bored. Or maybe so tired they couldn't help but fall asleep. Can't fault them for that. So what it boils down to, is that the Garden is where you take yourself to find a oneness with The Father. Each of us, I suppose must find our place that most fits for inspiration. For Jesus, it was the Garden of Gethsemane.
I've made some gardens in my life. But getting into them often enough to conduct regular sessions of prayer... well that's tough.  Between kids and animals and husbands with mowers...it is also tough to keep. So this shall be my prayer garden. I will build a journal of prayers and answers sometimes, amidst pictures I take of flowers, birds and bugs, or anything that inspires me to pray and thank God that he is the author of everything. Today...I just want to thank Him for my Prayer Garden. And while I am here, I will remember that he also prayed in a Garden Called Gethsemane.  "Lord, help me not to fall asleep during the important times. Amen"