I Haven't Seen This Before
Noticing Good Blooms at Home
I’m trying a new rhythm this year and that looks like moving slower and being more intentional with my time. As I looked ahead to this summer, I continually felt the nudges to “take a Sabbath” for the month of July. Being a mom of a handful of children, running a ministry, and being in a season of transition—that is easier said than done. So, I’m stepping back where I can, and Substack is one of those places. I am intentionally filling my soul in this season, so that I can continue to have the capacity to continue sharing with you here. I’ve invited some dear friends, some I’ve known for years, and some I’ve just recently met, to share with you for the month of July and I’m so excited for it. I pray you’re blessed by their words and presence here!
When I first read her words, my heart immediately knew that Amber Taube and I would connect on a deeper level. With a common thread woven throughout our ministry callings and heart for writing—I felt right at home in Amber’s words. I always feel as if I am sitting down together for coffee across the table from her every time I read Essence of Faith. I’m SO grateful that she is sharing from her heart, here in this space with you today. I pray you are welcomed into the presence of Jesus through her words.
Wild hydrangeas crept over the fence as we sat drinking chai in plastic chairs hastily pulled out on our arrival.
“Mom, give me your phone. I have to take a picture of these flowers!”
Click.
The clusters of pale green petals glowed among pictures from our trip — herds of buffalo and goats, plates of pani puri, and a group of believers worshipping during a power cut.
“I haven’t seen these before!” I said, taking back my phone.
Hydrangeas have always been a favorite. My wedding bouquet was full of them. My husband and I planted shrubs in my parents’ yard for an anniversary surprise. I’d enjoyed these flowers all my life, but I was sure I hadn’t seen them here before.
Bumping down the dirt road to our house after a long trip on treacherous mountain paths, my husband vowed not to take that route again. As our front gate creaked open, I looked out the window and gawked—wild hydrangeas in the field next to my house!
Why is home the hardest place to notice goodness blooming?
I notice the weeds. I notice where rain water pools in muddy shadows. I notice fires burning as ash rains onto the patio table.
I notice bad habits, unkind words, floors unswept, and beds unmade.
When children in our co-op pick up after crafts, using their most polite words, I think, “I haven’t seen this before!”
But I have.
When social media shows families having a peaceful devotional time or a birthday party with a mom who isn’t stressed out, I say, “I haven’t seen this before!”
But I have.
As jacarandas bloom by a bubbling creek, my six-year old exclaims, “Mommy! Purple trees!” as if we haven’t seen the indigo petals sprinkling city streets many times before.
But we have.
Must I be walking through a botanical garden to smell the roses?
Can I stop here long enough to appreciate goodness blooming in my own home?
And — perhaps most importantly — will I pause the nit-picking and weed-pulling to celebrate beauty unfolding before me?
I don’t understand why it’s so hard to recognize and name sweet fruit at home. Nor do I understand why it’s so easy to gripe about the weeds — the bad behaviors, the disrespect, the irritating childishness of children.
I wonder, have I rushed maturity more than I’ve celebrated the blessings of each stage? Have I missed the flowers for the weeds?
God help me, I have.
In my strict analysis of the sprouts around me, I’ve missed the evil weed wrapping its ugly vines around my heart — the weed that is quick to anger but slow to praise. The weed that needs to go.
As I bend low to root out what’s rotten, I realize the sun is setting.
Now is the time to delight in summer freckles and baby teeth wiggling out.
Now is the time to prompt and to praise while the Lord provides all that is needed to grow.
Now is the time to trust that there are things below the surface that only He sees.
As I live with open eyes and an open heart, may my children wonder at the change. May we press wispy blooms between weathered pages and wonder at the beauty on display in the hardest place to find it.
As I gather up the goodness of pale petals and purple blooms, I’ll say, “I haven’t seen this before.”
But I have, and I trust I always will.
Many thanks to Amber Taube for sharing her heart on experiencing God today. As always, I’m grateful for your presence here, with us today.
Substack always offers their writers the option to open up for paid subscriptions. I know many writers on this platform offer this to their subscribers, but for me, I hope to always keep what I offer here in this space free of charge. My husband and I serve in support-based missions work in diaspora ministry, specifically in immigrant and refugee care. If you want to support my writing—you could give a one-time or recurring donation to our ministry and that would be a huge blessing.
Thanks for giving me this opportunity, friend! My words feel right at home here ♥️
I can just envision it all 💛