Janet – Page 2 – A Walk in the Garden

The Trash Man Cometh

It was one of those mornings, during my daily communion time with God, that I did not feel joyful; rather, my burden felt too great and my heart too enormously heavy. It was that elephant-on-your-chest, feels-to-hard-to-breath heavy. Stress. “What am I doing wrong? Am I not praying the right way? When will this trial end? God, you know I’m done with this storm and I’ve got nothing left in my tank.” Tears fell from my cheeks to my Bible. I am at a loss as to what to do. All prayed out – but, God already knows.

Unexpectedly, my time of “prayerful” silence was broken. I am acutely aware of the roar of the trash truck outside – the clanking of the plastic containers, the rumble of the hopper loading, and the crushing sounds of the compactor. Through the tears, I smiled. It’s Wednesday. Trash day. I found it amusing that my neighbors and I depend on the disposal services to take away our garbage on this very day of the week. We habitually prepare by gathering the trash throughout the house, taking it to the curb, knowing it will be picked up on Wednesdays. I smiled because, at that moment, I knew in some strange way, God was answering me.

It seemed silly that I could routinely count on the trash collectors; yet, was struggling to instinctively trust God. A slight sense of embarrassment, combined with a touch of humility, washed over me. “Of course, I trust You. Forgive me for my weak moment. My faintness of heart. I trust You to show up on time. Geez! If I can count on the garbage collector to show up, I can certainly count on You!” What had I been thinking?

Suddenly, I felt it: His strength was gently filling my spirit. My part was to let go of the junk building inside me, weighing me down. To let go of the anxiety, the past disappointments, and failures, to release any and all anger, and even forgive those who’ve hurt me, whether they know it or not.

Yes, God is strengthening me, preparing me for what He has planned for my future. He alone knows the plans He has for me. “I do trust you, Lord, with all my heart.” He will not fail me. There it is – even more strength. Confirming my trust, my faith, makes me strong. I can feel the change inside me.

I decide, although they may be few at the moment, to count my blessings, which also brings peace. “Thank you, Lord, for using the simple sounds of a trash truck to remind me of Your Sovereignty in my life.”

“I know You love me. You are my heart.” There, it is back – joy! 🙂

Psalm 16:11 You make known to me the path of life; in your presence, there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.

Psalm 91:2 I will say to the Lord, “My refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.”

Take My Hand

I had accepted a new job with a company on beautiful Hilton Head Island and was thrilled to live where there were warm beaches in October. The view from my office overlooked the marina. My new life was looking good, up until the second day at work when I was greeted with, “Do you have somewhere to go?” Apparently, we all were in need of refuge, due to the impending danger of Hurricane Matthew. It was October 2016, and the governor of South Carolina was about to issue a mandatory evacuation.

A mere forty-two hours later (exactly 6 a.m.) I was among the thousands of evacuees being funneled toward the one bridge that led on and, more importantly, off the island. With my SUV tightly packed, I drove about 130 miles inland to the safety of a friend’s home, wondering what would be left after the storm hit.

The following morning, my host burst into the pre-dawn blackness of my guest room and asked, “Do you think you can drag yourself out of bed and go for a walk?” I groggily responded, “What time is it? Did he not realize that I was incredibly exhausted? “Oh, around 5:30,” he cheerfully replied. Ugh! I am not a morning person.

Despite the insanely early hour, I realized a brisk morning walk would help my nervous energy. This Missouri girl had never been evacuated from anywhere, and I found the entire experience unsettling. Half-awake, I rummaged through my suitcase, pulled out my running shoes, put on my athletic wear, and into the pre-dawn hour we went.

As we stepped off the lit street, onto the park path, there was no visible light – only total darkness. I wished for a flashlight. Beneath my feet, I could feel the concrete path, my sight now limited to what was directly in front of me. In the pitch black, I struggled to find direction on the uneven trail. My friend, now several steps ahead, begged me to step it up. I was stumbling. Finally, he reached back and said, “Take my hand.” The tightness of his grasp, tugging me in the right direction, came as a relief. With his help, I ventured along with ease as we finished our morning hike.

Later that night, the hurricane hit the coast. Safely inland, we could hear the heavy flood of rain as the storm passed. I would soon discover that Hurricane Matthew had devastated Hilton Head Island. The 87 mph winds, combined with tornados and severe flooding, had destroyed many homes and businesses, leaving no permanent place for me to live. My new company took a financial hit. These and other circumstances had made it impossible for me to stay in South Carolina. The winds had literally shifted my direction, and a week later, I was driving back to Missouri. My friends would later joke that it took a hurricane to bring me home.

During the two-day drive through the southeast, I wondered what would become of me. What was I going to do? Where was I going to live? How would I provide for myself? My future was uncertain and frightening. As anxiety began to well up inside, I remembered how it felt when my friend gripped my hand, walking along that uncertain, dark path – me, clueless of the direction. His grasp felt so secure. I wondered, is this is the feeling of security that God wants for me? My circumstances were no surprise to God. He knew exactly what my future held, even if I didn’t. Thinking of my friend’s confident, reassuring grip made me realize that my life, left in God’s capable hands, was much more secure – all I had to do was reach out, grab hold, and trust.

Jeremiah 29:11 – “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

Welcome to My Journey

As a young girl, I remember having this desire within me to write. It was always a part of me – like breathing. I’d write silly little plays or stories that my mother would read, smile, and say, “That’s nice.” I’m not too sure that I ever cared what my family thought about my so-called hobby. I was having fun!

Throughout my lifetime, I’ve experienced many different styles of writing and various roles. To name a few: junior high newspaper, high school editor, the college newspaper, radio and television news, non-profit appeal letters, success stories, newsletters, executive communications, online and print marketing. I even blogged about wood-look vinyl for one job. While these were all good experiences, what feels best is sharing my faith through words – like when I wrote children’s sermons for worship.

I will never forget, while in college, one of my professors said something to me that I didn’t give much weight to at that time. He told me that I had the rare gift of bringing emotions out of black and white. He added that not every writer could do this and encouraged me to explore this path. I didn’t get it. The writing was not hard. I even enjoyed the essay test questions that everyone else dreaded.

As I was searching for a place to start, I spoke to one of my best friends, also a writer. Her advice: just start writing. She added, “Sometimes the process of writing is as therapeutic to you, as it may be a blessing to others. You should start a blog.” I agree – journaling has many times helped me heal…from a loss, a heartache, or some other unfortunate tragedy.

I can no longer ignore God’s gentle hand, strongly nudging me to share the words he places on my heart. I have prayed for direction, and the tug, the push or pull inside me stops only when I sit still and write. In the silence, God gives me the words.

Today, I am thankful. I acknowledge the gift God has placed within. If somehow my words do become a blessing to even one person, the credit will not be mine; rather, it will be His.

So now the journey begins…one word, one thought, one story at a time.

1 Peter 4:10 Each one should use whatever gift he has received to serve others, faithfully administering God’s grace in its various forms.