Herbal Awakening

This morning I prepared my water for the day, taking mint and basil from my garden, breaking the leaves up and putting the broken leaves into the 2 quart container. I then put ice in the container and shook the broken leaves and ice together, crushing them even more. During this process it dawned on me that, it is not until one is broken, perhaps crushed by tragedies and circumstances, crushed by bad decisions and heart ache. It is not until we are broken, to what seems like beyond repair, that we are able to truly give back to our fellow travelers. It is in these crushing blows, this turmoil, these hard choices, the roller coasters of life that we are molded and shaped. This is where our spirit is broken and the healing ointment pours out.

The leaves of the herbs I picked this morning help no one by remaining on the plant. Over time, they just grow up and die off. If not picked regularly, the plant itself suffers. It will slow its growth and produce less fruit. Isn’t that how all plants work, though. Consider the layers of bark shed as the mighty trees grow bigger. We all have those layers in life. Those periods that seem unbearable, yet have you noticed that there is always someone that pops into your life? Someone who has, perhaps experienced something similar, someone who has learned from their past mistakes and has something to offer you…even if it is nothing more than an ear to  listen. The brokenness turns into an ointment, the support into a salve. Our own brokenness, if recognized for what it is, in turn, becomes a healing ointment for our fellows, as well.

Today is Good Friday. A time to remember the beating, the indifference, the disrespect of one who was able to see deeper than the physical realm that was attacking him that week. He knew the healing ointment would pour and the Spirit would be free to flow. It has troubled me for the past few years when I hear the statement, “He died…” For, indeed, he did not die! Indeed, the Spirit of God transcended the body and revealed itself to all who had eyes to see. Why else would the followers not recognize Jesus on that road to Emmanus. “Jesus himself came up and walked along with them; but they were kept from recognizing him.” (Luke 24:15-16) And, “Did not the Messiah have to  suffer these things and then enter his glory?” (Luke 24:26) My God is not the God of the dead, but the God of the living! In crushing, we are healed. May our hearts eyes be opened, may we recognize the Spirit of the Living God, even…especially…in our turmoil!

God’s will, not mine, be done!







By Yarn Zen Fibers

Many years ago, I was outside playing kickball with the neighborhood kids. My grandmother called me inside and quickly informed me that "Young ladies do not play with boys!". And she sat me down beside her and taught me my first set of crochet stitches. I do not recall my age, exactly, but do remember I was still in my single digits. Today I am very much grateful for her passing this skill down to me. It has saved my life in so many ways. I have used it as physical and emotional therapy more times than I can count...

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