Wednesday, May 22, 2019

Baseball Games Lost and Good Hearts

"You won!! Great game!!" I said to my son as he smiled and then hung his head. Now I was curious why he wasn't more excited for this first win of the his first Little League season after six losses straight. Most kids would be SO thrilled. Not this kid. Pleased, yes. Happy, yes. Overjoyed; no.

And then I watched as his best friend crossed the field. His best friend who played on the opposing team. His hand held up for a high five, he said to my son, "Good game!" to which my son responded, "Yeah, thanks. Sorry you had to lose, though. Losing's not so fun." They grinned together, friends who understood.

And suddenly I understood. My little-league player understood how it felt to lose, having lost so many games so far. He understood, better than most probably, how his friend felt being on the losing team this time around. "It was sort of weird. I was happy for me, but sad for him."

30 years later, I am watching grandsons play the game. All of them posses athletic gifts like their fathers. All of them hit home runs and strike out. They make great plays and sometimes not so good plays. They have wins. They have losses. The losses hurt. And their dads wisely remind them that it's good to win games but losing is good too, sometimes. It teaches us compassion. And to work hard towards improvement. And to have a good heart.

It's good to win games. But it's better to have a good heart.


Tuesday, April 23, 2019

The Saviors of the Garden


"We 💓 Aphids!"  proclaimed the bright green bucket with the picture of a smiling ladybug on the side. I sure hoped so! The white rose bush was overrun with hungry green aphids sucking the life from the stems. This little bucket of ladybugs was the last resort- mostly because the nursery was fresh out of pre-fed ladybugs when I visited several days before.

Oh, I'd tried other remedies; a soapy water spray knocked a few bugs off the stems, but it seemed like they crawled right back when my back was turned. I tried knocking the bugs off by hand (Eww!), but the thorny stems made that painful as well. After just a few days, the aphids not only persisted but had increased in number. There was only one thing left to try- I hoped the swarm of ladybugs in the cute little bucket would save the roses.



Evening came, the garden air had cooled. I knew the time was finally right to open the bucket. I misted the rose stems with water, then carefully lifted the lid. Sweet red droplets of Ladybugs flew everywhere. I sprinkled as many as I could near the bottom of the plant as well as the neighboring rose bush which was strangely aphid free. Darkness fell. I went inside and prayed the roses would be saved.

My sister said it wouldn't work; my niece's ladybugs all flew away. I hoped she was wrong. Nothing else had worked! I needed help! My own efforts hadn't changed a thing. These roses hold special meaning for me, I didn't want to lose them to some bugs that were so small one can barely see them. Invisible sinners, those bugs.

As the sun rose the next morning, I hurried to the garden. At first it looked like my sister might be right- the tallest stems still had a fair number of aphids clinging to them. But then I looked at the lower stems. Dozens of ladybugs were hard at work, eating the aphids as they ! All night long they had worked their way up the branches, covering every inch of the bush as they did. Two lower stems were now completely clean. I could see black specks- the remnants of aphid bodies discharged on the leaves, but the stems were clean and free. I was so happy I almost cried! The roses were going to be saved!



By late afternoon, nearly all the aphids were gone. A few ladybugs remained, as if they had stayed behind to protect the flowers. I said a prayer of thanks for a Perfect Creator who knew how to ensure the most beautiful flowers could bloom freely, despite my own feeble efforts.

Three days later, I looked out on the garden and saw the rose buds beginning to open. An hour later their ruffled petals had burst into glorious white blossoms.



I am like this. I am the besieged rose bush, tormented with bugs. I try to rid myself of these things with remedies of my own creation, but only my Savior can really help. I cry to Him. He, who shed red drops in the Garden comes to save me. And as He does, I am cleansed. Then I, too, can burst into bloom.