STEALING LILACS: A Tribute by Heidi McLaughlin

The first time it happened I was only four. “Mommy why are we stealing these lilacs?” “Do those pretty flowers belong to us?” I was bewildered as I watched my gentle mother on her tiptoes reaching and snapping the branches from the vintage purple lilac bush.  Soon her arms were filled with bunches of purple and the succulent aroma made her smile from ear to ear. I must have been mistaken, my quiet and tender mother would never do anything wrong.  Certainly not steal. Captivated by my mother’s joy I clung to her hand and bounced along as we headed back to our compact bungalow nestled in a small village in Germany.

World War Two left bomb shelters, broken dreams and poverty throughout Germany. Yes, the rubble was being transformed into its former beauty and culture, but families were still struggling to re-establish their former lifestyle. My young and innocent mother was confined to the bareness and poverty after a devastating war, and I knew she longed for beauty. We were very poor. There was no garden to grow fresh vegetables or soil for my mother to grow the Dahlias, Sweet Williams, pansies or carnations.  Her heart yearned to fill our home with vases filled with cut flowers of every shape, color and fragrance.

MY MOTHER YEARNED FOR BEAUTY

When we moved to Canada it felt like paradise to have our own vegetable garden and flowerbeds. Mother and I with our knees close together, poked holes in the soil and she showed me how to gently insert the tiny seeds and cover them just right. Soon our yard represented a painting of asters, dahlias and any flowers that survived the harsh winters and cooler summers of Prince George, British Columbia, Canada. Often, I saw mother heading outdoors with a pair of scissors to cut just the right combination of flowers that filled many of our crystal vases.  Finally, she had the freedom to unleash her inner desires and create a home filled with beauty, peace and fulfillment.

Over time I observed mother expressing and modeling beauty through various avenues. I was fascinated by the way she hung clothes out in the fresh air, laboriously and lovingly securing each item with the wooden cloth pegs. With perfection, she was able to iron and transform dried wrinkled messes into absolute perfection. For hours she was either on her knees or stooped over a buffing machine to wax and polish our floors until we could see our reflections. Somewhere in the house, there was always the aroma of a flower or the smell of freshly baked bread. She found it difficult to say, “I love you” but every day she reflected her love by creating images and fragrances that let us know we were the most important people in her life.

MY MOTHER TAUGHT ME WELL

As the years passed I learned to appreciate and understand her quiet quest for peace and beauty. Now that I’m all grown up, I live in Kelowna, British Columbia, Canada. Each spring the earth awakens with Saskatoon berry blossoms, forsythia bushes and daffodils. My joy erupts when I walk through the surrounding vineyards, and then along a fence where I find a particular purple lilac bush.  Its branches creep outside of its normal enclosure and I just happen to have a pair of scissors in my pocket. Without hesitation I snip off a few branches, carry them home and put them into a vase to watch them burst open in all their splendour.

Through strolls in the meadows my mother cultivated my heart to explore and enjoy the simple things in life. I am so grateful that she modeled how to infuse simplicity with beauty to create a beautiful loving home. My mother taught me well.

Heidi McLaughlin lives in the beautiful vineyards of the Okanagan Valley in Kelowna, British Columbia. Heidi has been widowed twice. She is a mom and step mom of a wonderful, eclectic blended family of 5 children and 12 grandchildren. When Heidi is not working, she loves to curl up with a great book, or golf and laugh with her family and special friends.

Her latest book RESTLESS FOR MORE: Fulfillment in Unexpected Places (Including a FREE downloadable Study Guide) is now available at Amazon.ca; Amazon.com, Goodreads.com or her website: www.heartconnection.ca

The Thorn in my Side - by Heidi McLaughlin

They are the bane of my existence but I can’t ignore them any longer.  The twelve large rose bushes that create a private hedge around my lower patio are covered in limp petals and desperately need pruning. Twice a year for over twenty-one years I’ve gritted my teeth, gathered my tools, put on my ragged long sleeved pruning shirt and tackled the thorns.  But this year I don’t have Jack to gather the debris and make it disappear. Ok kiddo, you’re on your own, give it all you’ve got!

Almost three hours later I’m sweaty, dirty and tired but the pruning is done and the debris hauled up the hilly side of the house to be recycled over a period of time.  As I stop to gulp down an entire water bottle, I see the blood on my arms and the side of my t-shirt where the thorns grabbed me and took pieces of skin. Why do I put myself through this misery?

Then I remind myself about the months of June and July.  Those days when I sat on the lower patio with my feet up reading a great book and surrounded by a hedge of bright pink petals and buds. Those thorny bushes had to be pruned to create this captivating beauty.

The pruning experience made me reflect on those times when I feel “thorny.” 

• ·      Someone won’t let me merge
• ·      A cashier chatting up a storm and holding up the line
• ·      Someone who compares the pain of my second husband’s death to the loss of her dog
• ·      When you’re having a bad day on the golf course and someone gives unwarranted advice and says: “When was the last time you had lessons?”

The apostle Paul, the greatest recorded missionary in the Bible had a “thorn in his side” (2 Corinthians 12:8). Three times Paul pleaded God to take this thorn away but God said: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” In other words, live with it, learn from it and in the harsh process become more like Christ.

Christ shed His blood so that we can be free to love each other and pass on His undeserving grace. I was willing to shed some blood for my rose bushes, but am I ready to put up with some emotional pain and extend grace to those things that feel “thorny?”

By the grace of God I am trying. I know that in the future when I feel “thorny” I will recall the blood on my sleeves and the pile of dead rose petals and pruning. Showing grace is beautiful but hard. But through the process I am becoming more beautiful from the inside out.

Heidi McLaughlin lives in the beautiful vineyards of the Okanagan Valley in Kelowna, British Columbia. Heidi has been widowed twice. She is a mom and step mom of a wonderful, eclectic blended family of 5 children and 12 grandchildren. When Heidi is not working, she loves to curl up with a great book, or golf and laugh with her family and special friends.

Her latest book RESTLESS FOR MORE: Fulfillment in Unexpected Places (Including a FREE downloadable Study Guide) is now available at Amazon.ca; Amazon.com, Goodreads.com or her website: www.heartconnection.ca

Transforming Fog Ruth Smith Meyer

This morning the world was shrouded in a dense fog. The snow and frigid temperatures that heralded the coming of March gave the impression of pulling the blanket up around its ears trying to ignore the warmer climate that was about to bring the demise of winter.

An hour or so later, when I drove out of the garage, the atmosphere was transformed once more.  The sun shone in a blue, blue sky. Against that azure back-drop, each branch, to the smallest twig was clothed in crystal white creating a fairyland of ethereal beauty. I wished I had started a half hour early and brought my camera to capture the magnificent splendor, for by the time church had hardly more than started the breath-taking splendor was gone.

Right now, at this period in my life, when I am finding my way to a new kind of life, because of the new reality of a second time of widowhood, I often feel as literally in the fog as the world was this morning. I remembered a poem I wrote when my first husband died.   

Return, Oh Spring!                                                                         

_{Song of my heart after Norman’s death.}

                                     

The morning dawns,

my consciousness aroused, 

realizes its arrival

is cloudy, damp and cold.

  

 My eyelids open slowly;

I pull the covers ‘round. 

It seems the clime

has my heart

firmly in its hold. 

Bleak February days

find echo in my heart.

-Where are the sunshine,

warmth and loving grace,

the shape and meaning,

hopes and dreams,

the touch,

the feel,

and sight

of my dear one’s face? 

Oh come,

warmth and touch

of Eternal Spring,

melt grief’s ice and snow,  

disperse winter’s chill,

and in the warming trickle

of the certain thaw,

soak the earth of promise

that lies beneath it still;

awaken slumbering seeds

and initiate new growth

of love and life,

in altered and innovative cast. 

Emerging from the earth,

facing toward the sun,

may hopes

and dreams

return to me at last.

_{Ruth Smith}

Six years later I added a few verses when Paul came into my life.

‘Twas my  earnest prayer

that February morn

when Spring seemed

loathe to come.

But slowly my heart

to resignation did succumb

to reality—life so different,

life alone,

to face the great unknown.

But life so new

and foreign now

still seemed the weight of stone.

Then blew Eternal Spring

And moved your heart to call

To melt my sadness,

Dispel my grief’s dark pall.

And in the warming stream

of your amazing love,

you soaked the arid places

that I’d been conscious of;

awakened slumbering seeds

and initiated new growth

of love and life,

in altered and innovative cast. 

 

And I emerged from earth,

My face glowed in the sun,

New hopes arose,

Dreams came true,

My heart felt at home again--

at home in your love,

at home at last.

                        _{Ruth Smith Meyer}

Now I face another time of grief.  Although there are moments when I’d like to draw those blankets up around my ears, this morning’s magic, makes me realize that even dense fogs can be the instrument to bring about enchanting beauty. And as a writer, I want to have paper and pen or computer ready to record the unexpected brief revelations of fulfillment and loveliness that surprise me as I walk this way, for I do not walk alone.

 Ruth Smith Meyer is the author of two adult novels, a children's book and her latest, memoirs Out of the Ordinary,  You can contact her through her website, www.ruthsmithmeyer.com.  She also enjoys opportunities to share inspiration through speaking engagements and women's retreats.