Daddy planted rye grass

So I asked Mom if she wanted me to plant rye grass this fall. "OH. No. No. No." she replied. Daddy always planted winter rye grass and had the most beautiful green lawn all winter long. He enjoyed having soft,green grass while all the neighbors suffered with their brown crunchy yards. But he also grumbled all winter when he had to continue to cut his grass and those around him didn't. That's the part mama was remembering. In the end, it was worth the effort.

So today I was on water duty. (It takes nearly an hour to properly water everything in the yard Daddy has planted EVERYWHERE. Such a farmer at heart he was forever buying seeds for new plants he wanted to try out or breaking off a seed pod out somewhere-restaurants, stores, whatever. No planter was off limits). As I moved through the back yard, I began to notice something interesting. There are little sprouts of grass everywhere, mostly showing up in previously bare spots. There they are, poking their little blades up through the South Carolina red clay. Saluting to anyone who would notice. I began to look among the other established grasses and sure enough-rye grass.

Now winter rye grass is supposed to only last one season. You're SUPPOSED to have to replant it each fall. But seeds in my Daddy's hand turned magic. They had no choice but to grow. So this first winter without him, seeds dropped from last winter have taken root and now are reaching to heaven as if to honor his untiring efforts to prepare the soil, to plant, to grow, to reap.

As I thought through this scenario, I was both admonished and encouraged. I was admonished to plant seeds. So many people came to us when Daddy died to tell us of the seeds he had planted in their lives, of how they had grown and what that had meant to them. I can still picture his gnarly old finger as he would poke a hole in the soil, cover it up, give it a pat and move on down the row. May I ever be constant in the planting of seeds....

And there is encouragement as well. Sometimes we put so much effort into someone, or some project or lesson or music. And from what we can see, there does not seem to be much in the way of results for our efforts. But always remember Daddy's rye grass. You never know what's taken root, what's living below the surface that is just waiting there ready to sprout and grow.

I have to wonder what kind of heavenly plants Daddy is enjoying today......Hey Dad! Toss down some seeds for me and Andy!

...mama without daddy....

That's what happens when Daddy goes to Haiti on a mission's trip. Or perhaps when Mom goes to a ladies' retreat. Sometimes it would be when Daddy would go fishing. It lasts a week, a weekend, a day. It's temporary. The separation ends and they are together again.

Our situation now is temporary as well. One day we will all gather again in heaven. It will be glorious. I may rush past Christ lookin' for Daddy. However, even though I know we will see him again, it is final for life here on earth. He's never coming back here. We are to learn what our new normal is, minus his influence, strength, humor and love; Mom more so than the rest of us.

Grieving for Daddy is one thing. Watching her suffer as she grieves is just as painful. They met while teenagers, quickly fell in love and married. Sometimes you just know the right thing to do and they did. They committed their lives to each other for eternity without looking back, without regrets, without hesitation. And so it was for 56 years. They were one in every sense of the word. Even when they might not completely agree, they went forward as one, in unity.

How? In describing her loss, I have compared it to losing a leg or an arm. It is like missing a part of your body, a part you've always had there with you, one you depend on. And now, you must learn to survive life without it. You must struggle to compensate. Mom would agree with that, only she uses a different part of the anatomy: the head. She says she lost her head.

Mama has always been strong, self-sufficient, independent. Nobody told her what to do .....except for Daddy. Early in their marriage, she willingly, purposefully placed herself under Dad's authority. She subjected herself to him. She let him be the boss. In turn, he protected her, led her and often yielded to her desires. Always, they would make decisions together. At any rate, every aspect of her life began and ended with how it involved Dad. How would it help him? How might it inconvenience him? What would he think? How would he react? What were his needs or expectations? How would it reflect on his name? Would it make him proud? Would it show him love? Would it support his purposes in life? What would he want her to do? He was her head and she flourished in her role as his wife. They were a team, supporting and protecting each other. Always each had the other in mind.

Now. Now all that must change. Wow. How? That has been her struggle these last 17 weeks since he left us. At first, she collapsed in agony. The pain paralyzed her whole being. It's not that she was defeated. Not Mom. But she had to take some time to allow her wound to heal a bit. She didn't wallow in her grief or shut down in despair. Always she strove to move forward, whatever that meant. But an injury as severe as the one she suffered requires a time of immobilization, a time to regroup and refocus. She has done that.

She will have new ministries. God will take her where she is now and use her to meet the needs of those within her sphere of influence. Her direction in life will no longer include Daddy, but will reflect her desire to demonstrate her love to her new direct headship, her Savior. As she begins this new aspect of her life, she will grow stronger. She will see purpose again in life. Hope once again will present itself. She will remember that even though Dad is gone, her God remains. She will live for Him.

As I reflect on Mom and Dad and their life together, I am reminded that God describes our relationship with Him as a marriage relationship. We are His bride. Never, ever, anywhere else have I seen a more potent example of what that relationship should be, how it should look, than my parents. If we are the bride of Christ and mom is an example of that bride, I have to ask myself: How does my life display love for my Savior? Does every aspect of my life involve Him? How does my life help Him, inconvenience Him? What does He think? How would He react? What are His needs and expectations? How does my life reflect on His name? Does it make Him proud? Does it support His purposes? What would He want me to do?

Mom was consumed by her love for Daddy. Am I consumed by my love for my God? As I take inventory of my desires, actions, attitudes, reactions and purposes, of how I fill my days, what I let offend me, what I think about, my selfishness and pride....I fall desperately short of the example my mom has set for me.

Teach me, Lord.....show me where I have not submitted. Help me understand true commitment. Your faithfulness to me has been unfaltering. Help me to learn from You....to learn from mama.