Heather Holleman's Blog, page 17

Not Home

I decided to read 2 Peter this morning after Ashley told me that’s where he’d been reading. “It’s been awhile since I read 2 Peter,” he said. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d read the book in its entirety, in one sitting. I think about two things.

First, everyone should memorize verses 3 and 4, right? His divine power has given us everything we need for a godly life through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness. Through these he has given us his very great and precious promises, so that through them you may participate in the divine nature, having escaped the corruption in the world caused by evil desires.

How would we live differently today if we thought that we had everything we needed, that we could indeed participate in the divine nature instead of living according to the world and it’s deceiving, entrapping principles?

Secondly, I consider the sobering truth of The Day of the Lord. I remember telling my oldest daughter that it feels like the end of the world sometimes with war and flooding and famine and disease. She said, “Mom, that’s not how it ends. It’s fire. It all ends by fire.” I had forgotten 2 Peter. Yikes. Read this: You ought to live holy and godly lives as you look forward to the day of God and speed its coming. That day will bring about the destruction of the heavens by fire, and the elements will melt in the heat. But in keeping with his promise we are looking forward to a new heaven and a new earth, where righteousness dwells.

Sometimes it’s hard to believe. What if we did really and truly believe it? What if we remembered that our lives are about looking forward and not becoming so comfortable here in this place that’s not our home?

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Those Who Bring Nothing

This morning’s sermon reminded me how much God delights in blessing us regardless of our performance. We can’t earn our way to it, and yet, we continue to live as if we can. It’s the old lie, the old bondage of Galatians 5. We not longer do; we receive.

I read Psalm 147 this morning and noted how God does not delight in strength or “doing’; rather He delights and favors “those who fear Him. . . who wait for His lovingkindness.” I also had been reading Andrew Murray’s Abiding in Christ and these words: “It is when the soul becomes utterly passive, looking and resting on what Christ is to do, that its energies are stirred to their highest activity, and we work most effectively because we know that He works in us.” We work from this strange place of weakness and passivity.

I think more about this idea of waiting and receiving and this idea of utter passivity. I think about Jesus being drawn to weaknesses and mistakes and suffering and confusion. We don’t get things right first; we always go just as we are.

I have this cat, Merlin, who hardly lets anyone touch him. Sometimes, however, he’ll approach, stiff and suspicious. When we’re able to grab him, and he feels our arms around him, he goes completely and utterly limp. He fully surrenders to us, purring and demanding the blessing of petting, brushing, and treats. He meows if we don’t pay enough attention to him. The transition from totally resistant to fully melting in submission always makes me laugh. And it’s such a picture of utter passivity. So many of us come against our will, then finally relax into the care of a great God.

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Yesterday and Today: Pumpkins and Figs

Yesterday, I happily observed my white mini-pumpkins growing. Today, I saw the slow-growing fig growing slowly. My tomatoes still haven’t ripened. Perhaps I’ll enjoy back-to-school tomato sandwiches in late August! And in October, I’ll put out all the mini-pumpkins (white, orange, yellow, and multicolored) for everyone on the street to pick for their autumn decorations. I think I’ll put pumpkins all around the Adirondack chairs as well! But fall hasn’t arrived yet; it’s not even August. I wish for us to savor these last few days of July.

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Notes from the Arborist

I stand in horror as I’m instructed to murder my plum trees. This winter, I must chop them both down to the very base of their trunk. I’m incredulous. I’m stupefied. Four years worth of work, slaughtered.

The Gentle Arborist tells me there’s another word for this extreme pruning. “It’s not murder,” he says. “It’s forced regeneration. The technical term is coppicing.”

The Black Knot was too much. And my pruning was all wrong. Now, I’m in a new world with a new vocabulary. Forced regeneration. Coppicing.

The good news:

The Gentle Arborist pruned my healthy peach tree and then told me my plum trees would immediately sprout new, strong, branches next spring. I might even have fruit. He would help me find the dominant branches and subordinate the others that inhibit growth. He would treat for the Black Knot. He would save everything. He would return every season.

I think of our spiritual lives and this concept of forced regeneration. I think of God cutting things back in our lives in order to save something that was infected and growing all wrong.

I notice how the Gentle Arborist does even more than I asked. He cannot help but diagnose everything and apply a remedy. Dead branches here in the oak. An overcrowded Ginkgo. A cypress tree needing thinning out.

I love thinking of God as the Gentle Arborist who fixes everything. Even if it hurts.

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A Little Every Day

I love working as a consultant to help writers finish their manuscripts. While I only have a few clients here and there, I find myself answering similar questions related to how to schedule time for writing. Start with 20 minutes whenever you want. One thing I recommend is daily writing for an audience just to practice your written voice, just to learn to be OK with imperfection, and just to enjoy not overthinking your sentences. Go ahead and start a blog for others to read that you deliberately don’t spend a lot of time thinking about. If you notice, so many of you like to help me edit when I’ve made an error, and it doesn’t create a shame response or embarrassment. I encourage my students to do the same thing. Just write. Don’t overthink. Imagine a loving audience. Let it be all wrong.

When people email me or send notes, they often say, “I’m so nervous since you’re a grammar expert. Please don’t judge my writing.” Know this: I’m not judging anything. I love your words. I love your heart. I love when you try to put language to what’s in your mind. It might be the bravest thing you’ve attempted in a while.

Write a little today. Don’t edit. Don’t overthink. Try to get to a state of flow, of a lack of self-consciousness, and of freedom. Then, do the same thing tomorrow. And the next day. And the next.

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Seek the Wise

The arborists are coming! I’m consulting with two different experts just to be sure I’m getting the best advice. I find myself delighted by the particular passions and expertise of a certain certified arborist whose bio says “his passion, strong background in insect and disease management, thirst for knowledge, and love of plants make him a great resource of information” for all of my tree issues. He’s not just a certified arborist; he’s also a certified tree care safety professional.

I’m seeking the wise.

When we have problems of any kind, especially in the mental or spiritual health categories, remember to seek the wise. Find the older, wiser, people who know how to help solve your problems. Over the years, I’ve learned to seek the wise. I collect them in my life and know to go to them. And I’m realizing that in some categories of living, God wants me to be the wise person helping the younger if they are having the same kinds of problems in life I endured.

Think of yourself standing up in church, for example, and crying out, “Who here is wise? Where are the wise? Come help! Come help!” Maybe you’re the wise one sent there to help someone.

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Noticing What You Love

I love noticing new things that bring delight. Like the sound of dripping water from hanging pots after you water them. Like the way you walk into a room to find a cat curled up and sleeping soundly. Like the way it feels to be in one room of your house and then hear a child playing the piano. Like the way the dishwasher or laundry machine hums and it feels like things are getting done. Like the way the sun breaks through the clouds suddenly and warms your face. Like the way you’ll be talking to a neighbor and she reaches out and grabs your elbow for emphasis. Like the way a mother bird trails her baby who is just now learning to fly in hops and flaps. Or, like the way your hilarious neighbors take pictures of themselves sitting in your new chairs while you are away at the movies. It reminded me of the pranks of garden gnomes or little elves.

Notice. Make your list. It’s your menu of joy for the day.

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My Chairs!

Ashley built these yesterday, and they are so comfortable for long periods of sitting out front. This morning, I took my coffee out here to watch the sunrise. If I turn the chairs around, I’ll see the sunset. I loved talking to a few neighbors this morning already!

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Black Knot Woes

I’ve been reading up on Black Knot—the fungal disease creeping over my precious plumcot tree. When you have plum trees, apparently, you know to look for Black Knot, but I’m new to all this. I don’t know anything. I know my limits; I contact a certified arborist who knows what to do. This expert can help with my winter pruning and treatment to get rid of the fungus.

(I just love that I live in a world with certified arborists. I’m an expert in grammar; the arborists knows trees. To each his own calling. I plan on asking my arborist to tell me the whole story of how he or she became a certified arborist. When did you know you wanted to become a tree expert?)

So far in my reading, what encouraged me about the terrible Black Knot problem is how trees learn to handle it. Sometimes, it doesn’t cause any real problems other than being unsightly. And good news! I might actually have grown a Black Knot tolerant tree! So far, this might be the case since it’s so healthy.

I’m waiting for my arborist to contact me. I’ll keep you posted on my new adventure into handling Black Knot.

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Whatever the Question

I’m compiling my thoughts on prayer to speak at an upcoming conference, and it occurs to me that the the people I’m studying (whether Duewel or Murray or obviously Jesus Himself) all posit that whatever the question, prayer is the answer.

Think about it. God is an infinite source of wisdom, provision, and power. Whatever the question you’re trying to answer—when you’re confused or needing help—the best place to go is prayer. And prayer changes things. Whether or not we perceive the divine aid dispensed to us, it’s coming. It’s here now.

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