How to forgive with an eraser called time

When you stare at a blank canvas 

 When you are a writer without words, 

When you have the story but you can't stain the stark white canvas with your blood soaked tears.

When the story is so deeply rooted, it wraps you from the soul of your feet to the crown of your head.

When you know that the story needs to be told, for it is no longer yours, because God says to use it, he showed you how to use it for he knows just who and how it will bless-

 but...

You wrestle with pride, you wrestle with a shame that's not your own.

People will know my pain, people will know where my dry bones live, they will connect to me in a way that I didn't want, they will be too close for comfort- inside my bubble that I alone breathe the freshest of stale air. When you know your test, those lived experience that almost broke you, yet didn't- needs to come out- the words begin to reluctantly flow and you start- possibly at the beginning.

Ezekiel 37 1:3 And He said to me, Son of man, can these bones live? And I answered. O Lord God though knowest.

As questions go, I'm definitely thinking, that question right there was fully loaded; and if I were asked it today, I would say an emphatic Yes, but a few years ago- I would have said no.

I had my own valley of dry bones. I did not prophesy to them. They did not live.

I remember conversations that my friends had in high school about their families, when it was a general conversation, I'd lend my colourful stories, and my mommy's Jamaican sayings but when the conversation became parent specific- daddy specific- I'd go. I'd become quiet. I'd have nothing to say.

There were times when I didn't get to escape fast enough and be asked about my dad- I'd very promptly say 'My father lives overseas-' I'd say it with a fortitude which resonated -no more questions please- but occasionally, a teenage girl wouldn't get it and would continue to ask. That's when my shame kicked in, and I would squeeze my toes into the soles of my shoes and died a little bit inside.

I had nothing to say. I didn't know him. Never met him. He was bones in a graveyard of unspoken conversations, unspoken advice about boys, un-felt hugs, un-heard fears. 

 Children internalize their own pains.

I think I learned to hate at this graveyard- but not people- just him.

I met my father once, for the first time- as a teenager- in college. It wasn't like Oprah. I had played and replayed those Oprah like reunions in my head, how we would reunite and there would be nothing but hugs, tears of joys, kisses and life would end with the 'happily ever after theme' but it didn't happen quite - like - that.

Parents carry their own pains.

It was awkward. My happily ever after dream was tattered, broken, in a desolate graveyard, yet there he stood and my heart ran for cover. No - dry bones cannot live.

He tried to make a mends, but it was too late, I could not relate, I could not dream. There was underlying resentment, there was underlying hate.

God knows our pains.

It's not that my life was bad without him, it's just that I told myself it would have been better. I would have made better choices. I would have picked better boyfriends. I would have been married. I would have had someone to fight for me. I would have had more - of everything- but oh how I was wrong.

 The story of Joseph and his brothers came to me as I started to peel a pineapple and an orange to make my morning salad. It was about 10am and I was hungry. My spirit said- fast today- until 12.

I rolled my eyes- yes I did- the juices from the orange dripped through my fingers and I rolled my eyes and said- really? I'm peeling the fruits though. I finished peeling the fruits, put them away and the fridge and spent some time with God and then he showed me something I never would have heard with a full stomach.

Children have to learn to forgive parents who have made mistakes by them.

My life would not have been better if my father was always a part of it, it would just have been different. Different doesn't equal better.

Imagine for a minute a famine, a famine so bad that people were willing to become slaves for food. Joseph's family, living in Canaan had money to buy food but they had no food. There was food in Egypt. They would get food from- bones. To Jacob, Joseph was dead. It had been 15+ years. To his brothers, he had been good as dead- it had been years since they sold him. The brothers went down to Egypt with a hope and a prayer and got not only food but restoration. The family's seemingly dry bones-lived.

Now see how different doesn't mean better? if Joseph was not sold, how would lives have been saved? Not just lives of Joseph's immediate family but a nation?
Gen 45: 5 Now therefore be not grieved, nor angry with yourselves, that ye sold me hither: for God did send me before you to preserve life.

God sees the whole story - we see the script - a day at a time.

Forgiveness is hard- ask Joseph.

Forgiveness is undeserved- ask Jesus- about us

Forgiveness is necessary- ask me

I too had my time of famine, as we all do, and you know what? My father, the earthly one, well he gave me grain- and put back the money in my sack too. This is not why I forgave him-

I forgave him because Jesus gave me an example of forgiveness.
I forgave him because you can't prophesy to those you hate,
I forgave him because you can't give life to those you hate.
I forgave him because I needed restoration.
I forgave him, for me and for him.

My only hope now is that he can forgive himself.

There are times when you look at a graveyard of bones, and all you can see for miles is just death. Oh, but GOD, has defeated death, so you no longer have to live in man made graves of guilt and shame.

I had a graduation from another college recently, my father came, he smiled, he was proud, it was a little closer to the Oprah like reunions- yet- it wasn't. It was real life- and the oldest wounds leave the darkest scars. But time has erasers.


^{Ezekiel 37:13} And ye shall know that I am the Lord, when I have opened your graves, O my people, and brought you up out of your graves,¹⁴ And shall put my spirit in you, and ye shall live, and I shall place you in your own land: then shall ye know that I the Lord have spoken it, and performed it, saith the Lord.

Ask me today if dry bones can live and I will tell you: Yes
Ask me today if that lost family member can be restored, I will tell you: Yes
Ask me today if that person that you 'sold into slavery' can show you love and forgiveness and I will tell you: Yes

Is anything too hard for God?

It takes a particular type of famine for us to go and seek that which was lost but even in what seems like forever, is an eraser called time.

In time, I erased hate with love
In time, I erased resentment with forgiveness

In time, I erased lost time with daily conversations

I write a new song on my heart.


I call you to action:
Will you forgive and honour a parent ?
will you trust God to let dry bones live?


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Leaving the Shell behind 

A bridge to a Cross

I have seen quotes circulating over he social media landscape, this is one of the favoured. "You never know how strong you are, until being strong is your only choice." This quote has been attributed to the world famous Jamaican  reggae singer/songwriter, Bob Marley, who's album Exodus was named the Best album of the 20th century by Time Magazine in 1999. I'm a Jamaican. I love my island and I love me some Bob Marley but...

'Strong is never your only choice'; for there is always weak.

Strength is not the only choice anyone ever has
There is always weakness
The world says, if you choose weakness
You are copping out
Refusing to fight,
Giving up,
Not living it up
But
I do not agree
It is in weakness that one gets free

See
I've been strong
All my life
I've been fighting,
Been smiling
Been moving
Been going
Being strong- for so very long
And

I'm tired
Just plain ole tired
I can't fight no more
I don't want to smile no more
Moving, yet going in circles
Being strong has served me long

Now I just want to be weak
In myself - strength - I do not want to seek.
I choose weak
I choose a safe place to fall
I'm giving up on that which I believed---
That, I had it all

See
The world says in weak you should never abide
In weak you should never try to hide
Weak- makes you vulnerable
Weak makes you cry
Weak make others uncomfortable
Weak is not profitable

BUT

What if
Weakness was actually your strength?
For who reinforces a bridge that is deemed strong?
Isn't it a stronghold that takes capture of your life all the day long?
The strong doesn't need help to fight

What if
You let you let your weakness show?
Do you think it might give you a chance to grow?
To be held up?
Reinforced?
Rejuvinated?
Refereshed?
Renewed?
Will you be made perfect in your weakness?

No
I'm done with strong
I'll choose weak all the day long

I'm going against what he says, she says, they say
I'll play the fool and choose weak
'Cause strength has served me long,
But
It hasn't really made me...
Strong.

2 Corinthians 12 : 7-10
 7Because of the surpassing greatness of the revelations, for this reason, to keep me from exalting myself, there was given me a thorn in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to torment me—to keep me from exalting myself! 8Concerning this I implored the Lord three times that it might leave me. 9And He has said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.” Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. 

The apostle Paul, was serving the Lord, giving his all, willing to risk death, he was all in but he had a problem. A thorn in his flesh. A weak spot. If left unchecked, thorns in sides, like rusty steel pins in bridges, can cause total collapse. But, what to do? Well most of us try to be strong, try to solve that issue, try to cope with losses ourselves, try to try to- cold turkey; only to keep- well- failing in our own strength. Paul sought the Lord about his problem- thrice.

Now, I'm no theologian, but when I read that it was after the third time in prayer about this issue, that Paul got his answer from God. Three like the third day Jesus was risen from the dead signifies completeness- and that was the end of that! The thing is Paul's issue didn't leave him on that third time, but he now understood just how to deal with it. By being weak in the Lord, that is how you fortify a bridge. That is how you are strengthened. That is how you become strong.

10Therefore I am well content with weaknesses, with insults, with distresses, with persecutions, with difficulties, for Christ’s sake; for when I am weak, then I am strong.

The bird watching sanctuary

It was 5 p.m.

I had settled into what had become my newest pastime- bird watching.

There was that one bird, who everyday at around 5, sat on a branch across the way, as I sat in my own comfort zone having dinner. I just by chance glanced up one day, and there it was, oblivious to how thin the branch was that it so comfortably sat.

It came everyday.

It had become a quiet respite from never ending days of the mundane of life. The drop offs, the picks ups, making breakfast, making dinner, parting fights, combing hair- you know- those things you do when you sign up for motherhood.

For at least 10 minutes, I could drown out all the sounds of kids chatter, and I could make the time at 5, for me. Just me. Just me and the bird that perched on a branch in a tree. It sat on the very top, branches bare, and I could allow myself to think my own thoughts.

Wasn't the bird afraid the branch would break? Why does it come there everyday? Is it resting? Is it waiting? Is it just collecting twigs to build a nest?

After weeks, I didn't really care, it had become my 5 p.m. drink of nature, it had become my bird, my sanctuary. it's funny how you share things with others that give you joy, for I shared it with my family, and they started looking for my bird too; but I do suppose it might have meant something entirely different for them.

'His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.'(Mathew 6:25-26) I let that sit with me for a while. I marinated in it. I rejoiced in this news that the bird that sat in the tree on a branch brought me.

Then the bird that sat, came, no more.

It was 5 p.m.

My bird was late.

Then late turned into absent. Then one day turned into a week. I looked from my favourite place to sit for my favourite respite that came from the sky, and it didn't come.

'Watch your actions, 

They become habits'

I missed my bird that sat. It had become my respite. My little habit. My reminder that God watches over me. But it had left me. 

I looked up everyday, still. Just for the bird. Then I noticed something. The branches that were bare, were no longer so. There were leaves on those branches now, the bird had moved on, the tree had grown new leaves, but...I was still stuck- looking up. 

I accepted that my bird was gone, I sank back into the mundane. I ate. I told children to clear the table. I told children to wash the dishes. I sat- in my comfort zone of a chair. 

That moment when everything around you seems to move on, seasons change, birds like people fly away, and you still don't recognize that it's an indication, no... permission for you to move on also.

For everything, there is a season,(Ecclesiastes 3) you can so easily get stuck in a bird's yesterday.

The bird, never formed a relationship with me, it was doing only what it knew how to do everyday. I made it 'my bird', 'my respite'. I sat while it sat, and I took from it what it was never meant to give- me. 

I sat, and it flew away, it took from me what it was never meant to take but I gave it over, willingly. 

'...And I spent my days
Poured my life without measure
Into a little treasure box
I'd thought I'd found
Until the day when Jesus came to me
And healed my soul...'

Alabaster box

CeCe Winans

 We, like sheep, have gone astray, pouring our life without measure, into little treasures that we have found, giving ourselves over to many devices. We empty ourselves into men. Women. Our homes. Our children. Our jobs.  We get lost in dreams, drugs, food, shopping, birds, all to escape the mundane of life. We often times give ourselves away to people that don't even want us, people that mistreat us and abuse us but life is seasonal. 

I hear my friends on social media complain bitterly about their winter wonderlands, but through shivers, winter coats, boats and frozen nose hairs, it's difficult to remember that Spring is coming. That a new season is merely months away.

About that comfort zone chair- In Jamaica we have a saying ' batty never say get up'. The Jamaican word for 'bottom' is 'batty', this saying means, if you are seated comfortably, you most likely won't want to get up. Birds fly- that's what they do- most of them anyway. Trees lose their leaves in the winter, then by spring, they are in full bloom- this is what trees do. Humans on the other hand, well, they can get stuck. Stuck in places that provide respite,and miss their season. Miss their time to move. You have to know when your season has changed.

Respite in a world of chaos is music to the soul, man knows this, that's why he created massage chairs and spas, but that is temporal. Your Heavenly Father knows this too- that's why He sent Jesus, who says in Mathew 11: 28- 30...

" Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest, 29 Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek, and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."

It's possible to find rest in 'good things', - nature, birds, saving the planet, exercise and the like. It's  even more possible to find rest in godly things - like church work, evangelism and ministry. It is also entirely possible to get lost in them, to give them more power than they deserve and miss the fact that it is in Him- Jesus- that you should find rest, it is in Him that you should lay your burdens down, it is in Him that you escape from life's mundane tasks.

If you are giving the good and godly things 10 minutes of everyday,I am by no means suggesting that you stop, just don't forget to give him more, don't forget that the Creator is greater than the created- Always.

I look up occasionally on the tree, I see its leaves, I see no bird. Then I gaze at the bluest sky, decorated by the whitest cotton candy clouds, and I smile and whisper - lesson learned.

Words to Alabaster box by CeCe Winans taken from www.azlyrics.com

How to grow luck in a blue and white plate

Many years ago a friend and I went into a Plant store, we were buying a plant for my mother's birthday, an orchid if I remember clearly, she loves orchids! Whilst we were there, the owner of the store pointed us in the direction of a plant, she said..'oh you girls can get this one also- it's a Chinese lucky bamboo, it will bring you luck!' Since luck was apparently in short supply, I decided I might as well grow it. The 'lucky' bamboo was sitting in a little blue and white plate. I looked curiously at the plate and she read my mind. 'Yes, you can keep it in that, just water it every other day, and if you keep it in that plate, it won't really grow very big or anything.- perfect house plant.'

So we set off, with an orchid and growing luck in a blue and white plate.

Now, as much as I tried to grow luck, it soon started to look very unlucky. Hapless. Sad. Half-dead. I was managing, quite successfully I might add, to kill a plant with the name 'lucky.' I wasn't quite sure if killing a lucky bamboo would bring me seven years worth of bad luck or the plant was just unlucky to end up with me, who up to this point was only successful in growing hips! I probably would go with the latter.

A few months later, we had a hurricane in Jamaica, I don't quite remember the name of it but it was strong enough to bring down a Lime tree we had in the back yard, which left, well...a hole in the ground and an idea in my heart.

I took my half dead un-'lucky' bamboo plant and without any kind of fanfare, stuck it into the hole left vacant by storm force winds. It thrived, it grew and now it's more than 6 feet tall.

Sometimes, things have to uprooted for a better thing to grow.

Attempts were made to control the height of the tree but wherever there was pruning, there was new growth, there was no stopping this here lucky bamboo. It soon had shoots all over its base, and then Nature spoke to me.


John 15, 2-5: 'Every branch in me that beareth not fruit he taketh away: and every branch that beareth fruit, he purgeth it, that it may bring forth more fruit.3Now ye are clean through the word which I have spoken unto you.4Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine; no more can ye, except ye abide in me.5I am the vine, ye are the branches: He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit: for without me ye can do nothing.'

The Lucky Bamboo said:

I was a baby living on luck, the hope that someone would water me, put me in the perfect light, perfect temperature , perfect container. I was at the mercy of luck. I sat in a blue and white exotic looking plate, and there I did wait, for the girl that only grew hips, with well intentioned lips, that spoke of how despite her efforts, I look like I was sure to die.

The Hurricane said: 

I am merely passing by, Meteorologists chart my course, on my journey from coast to coast. It is not my intention to kill, but to do what is God's will. I will uproot, I will fill, I will water, I will send chills down spines, I will be a farmer's nightmare and a Store owners' thrill.

The Lime tree said:

This is it. I am dead. 

 My Heart said:

My heart from which everything flows, thought, I wonder what the future holds- will this Lime tree grow back, even through its heart breaking crack? The lucky bamboo is almost dead, so I might as well plant it in the Lime tree's stead. 

And the Lord said:

There is no need for luck when you are planted in me, for though you were dead and dying, in me you will have life, and life more abundantly. You will be like a tree planted by the rivers of water that bears fruit in its season. Those that be planted in the house of the Lord shall flourish in the courts of our God.

I say:

Look around, look up, look down, where are you planted? Are you at the mercy of others? Uproot some things, even though your heart might break. Plant new things, things in and around you that you or others gave up for dead. There is no need for a farming degree, just a will to be free. Don't buy fertilizer, don't go around searching for water, just abide in Him and watch yourself grow like the Cedar in Lebanon.

I am curious just to see how tall this tree will become; interestingly, remembering its original size, my mind would never have allowed itself to imagine what it has now become (it is now over 6 feet tall) - and isn't that a glorious outcome?

Ephesians 3:20 - Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us...

 

Birthdays and Mercedes Benz

'Oh Lord, won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz, all my friends drive Porsches, I must make amends...' words from the song 'Mercedes Benz' (1970) by Janis Joplin. Two days after recording this song, on October 3rd, she died,'chasing the dragon' which ultimately killed her at 27. 

I had a birthday recently. Birthdays not only remind you that you are a year older but also about that Mercedes Benz.

Birthdays call for introspection. What did I accomplish on this trip around the sun? What did I change about myself? How much did I grow? Did I complete the things on my bucket list?

Did I get that 'Mercedes Benz' that I have been praying for?

If you aren't careful, and the answers to those questions are in the negative, you could find yourself chasing your own demons.

'...Worked hard all my lifetime, no help from my friends, so Oh Lord won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz.'

That thing you have been asking the Lord for, that Mercedes Benz, that dream job, that husband, that lost family member- that thing that your friends have but you don't? That Mercedes Benz!  While this song was not a prayer and was more tongue in cheek, doesn't it speak to those silent, unspoken conversations that you have with God? Those times when you are waiting on Him, those times when you see birthdays come, and birthdays go and you realize 365 days have past and your hand is still outstretched- waiting?

Maybe you aren't like me, maybe you aren't tired of waiting, maybe you aren't tired of hearing 'but they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength: they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.' ( Isaiah 40:31). Maybe you aren't tired to have your wings folded, hidden, unused. What good is a bird who cant sing or a butterfly without wings? If I got that Mercedes Benz right now, I'd be ready, 'ready like Freddy' as we say in Jamaica but....is it just a matter of the driver's license? 

What do you do when you've asked for that Mercedes Benz? You know you can drive it, you think you are ready but God says 'No!' not yet my child, you are not quite where I want you to be. 

Well you could agree with Him and wait..

Or 

You could go chasing dreams down wide open spaces where life goes to die.

The thing about having free will is- the choice is yours.

Waiting is hard. I hate to wait. I sigh when I wait, I cry when I wait. Waiting frustrates me, especially when my friends drive Porsches, but I wait. 

The world says I am crazy, I should push past the crowd, network, get worth, kick down the doors you have been knocking so politely on...but God says if you wait on me- you shall be truly free.

Related readings: 1 Corinthians 3;19, Philippians 4:11, Psalm 130:5, Psalm 27:14
 

Leaving the shell behind

Leaving your shell behind

I like nature but I wouldn't describe myself as a naturalist. What I love about nature are the colours. I dream in colour. What I love about nature are the  shapes, forms, lines, curves, textures. I like the mystery of nature. I like the awesomeness of it. I like what even the very elements of nature do to the things of nature. I often sit and let my imagination roam through the mind of the Creator of all things natural, how he created everything - so- good!(Genesis 1)

I don't like every about nature, I was talking to a friend recently about seahorses, she said 'well did you know the males are the ones who carry the young?' Then the picture came with the teeny tiny seahorses coming out of the father's tummy! I was grossed out to say the least! I don't know why I was so disturbed by it, but it haunted me for days- crazy huh? But I think I know why now, just now, because of my trip to the beach.

Summer is beach going season, but when you live where others vacation, any day above ground is a beach day. This particular day was Independence day, and Jamaica was officially 53, and the family and I were beaching it up and I wandered upon some shells, and Nature spoke to me.

2 Corinthians 5:17: 'Therefore, if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away: behold, all things become new.' 

There was once a slimy little created being living in the shell, the fact that the shell was now on the beach, among the stones, simply meant it had died. Probably eaten by its own kind, or a cousins that it shared company with in the sea. The remains of its life carried in by the tide, as evidence that it once lived.

There is a sweet song and dance of hard covering soft, gliding in a symbiotic ballet. Lifting. Protecting. Completing. But what do you do when only hard remains?

Life can play cruel games with our soft parts. The snail, as it grows, knows, it needs its shell to do the same, so it seeks calcium to reinforce itself and builds out and around its hard outer shell; it's instinctively protecting itself.  Humans however, are not snails, for the more we cover our soft parts with hard things, the balance changes; the relationship of hard and soft becomes parasitic and we begin to die. Our humanity shows less, there is no soft to touch the hard of the world, no soft for a people, a child, a husband, a life. What's left is hard beating against hard, everyone being battered by the tide.

The world has become an increasingly hard place, survival of the fittest, the hardest; soft has no place in the harsh realities of a world that requires hard but hard places are never comfortable places to fall. Love is soft. Love suffocates when covered by hard. Love needs a soft place to fall and so do all of us.

Snails sometimes loses its shell, its soft exposed, it becomes vulnerable to predators and the natural elements, it soon dies but as I said before, we are not snails. When we lose our hard, when we leave the hard exterior of hurt, disappointment, hopelessness, pain, betrayal, and sadness behind, we do not die. We live! We become new creatures, our old shells that were washed up by the tide becomes our testimony of God's saving grace and ALL things become new.

 Which brings me to the seahorse, I will take comfort in the fact that a nine year old somewhere in the world still doesn't know that the male seahorse gives birth (and hope that 9 year olds across the world aren't insulted). A male seahorse giving birth seemed unnatural, it didn't make sense; it challenged my intellect (as shoddy as this 'discovery' make it seem), how could a male give birth? but its true and it happens everyday even though it makes no sense to me.

Lay down the shell, let go of the hard and become soft, vulnerable; made no sense to me and frankly, it's a bit scary, but I tried it and it was such a relief when soft touched soft. I'm a work in progress; it isn't a magic bullet but it works.

I took the shells home, they are beautiful to look at, the shape and the colours fascinate me. My hard was taken by the waters that gently caressed my feet as I watched my family having fun on the beach.



What will you do with your shell? I challenge you to lay it down.

The Things I see in Nature

It's mango season in Jamaica

There is a popular folk song in Jamaica called 'Mango Time', a line from it goes like this "Mi nuh drink coffee tea, mango time- care how nice it may be-mango time,' translated it simply means, when its mango season, all one wants is mangoes, not even your coffee or tea, regardless of how nice it is. I love mangoes and I have the scar to prove it. In high school, a friend and I were standing under a mango tree when one fell and there was a mad dash to pick it up! I sped off and crashed and burned on my knees-mango-less! Now one would think after that any self respecting 'friend' would concede and give me the mango right? Wrong! I was left with a bleeding knee, mango-less and embarrassed by her laughter ringing in my ear.

Did I mention I loved mangoes? Well years later I couldn't eat mangoes, I just couldn't digest it anymore, I agonized as I watched people enjoying my favourites- East Indian and Julie, I would often force myself to eat it to later suffer the consequences of serious tummy aches. BUT THEN...as mysteriously as the intolerance came, it went and I was back to my mango eating ways and I was a happy camper again. The other day, I was standing under a mango tree much like the one in the photo, laden with mangoes, as well as many rotting on the ground and what came to me was, well...insightful..I thought I would share- THE THINGS I SEE IN NATURE.

Luke 10:2 - Therefore He said unto them, The harvest truly is great, but the labourers are few:  pray ye therefore the Lord of the harvest, that he would send forth labourers into his harvest.

I was in my auntie's yard, she had three huge mango trees, East Indian, Julie and Blackie...my three all time favourites; she only ate East Indian, no one else in the house ate mangoes- people that don't eat mangoes!- they do exist! There were many many mangoes, the branches were full, the ground was full of those that had fallen plop, there were some in plastic bags that were rotting, some on the trees that birds and bats had half eaten and well the mangoes that were 'turn' and the ones that were green. And it hit me- the harvest is ripe but the labourers are few- indeed. I broke it down like this.

The mangoes represent the people of the world that are 'ripe', ready for the 'harvesting', ready for someone to tell them about Jesus's saving grace.

The people that don't eat mangoes (craziness!) are the harvesters who don't follow the great commission (Mathew 28, 16-20) or those that do not evangelize to certain people- 'drug addicts, prostitutes et al'

The mangoes that are half eaten by bats and birds:- There is nothing worse than when you see a nice ripe juicy looking mango on a tree, go to pick it (if you climbed the tree) or bring it down with a stick and realize- its half eaten on one side- totally inedible! Do you know what is the next immediate action? Yes, you swiftly drop it! These mangoes are many of us, who look so good on one side, all meticulously crafted to perfection but close up, there is a part of us that is eaten away by birds (Satan) or a part of us that we allow bitterness, and unforgiveness to eat away. Usually when people see this side of us, they throw us away or swiftly leave.

The mangoes that fall on the ground under the tree are ready for the 'eating', they have a soft spot where they fell, but still, they are basically good and receptive of the word, and they save you the trouble of having to get a stick or having to climb the tree. These are friends, family, church members, you and me.

The mangoes that stay on the ground till they rot and were placed in bags, are the ones that we discard as 'unreachable.' They are so far into the despair of sin that a way out for them seems impossible- to us!

The turn mangoes as we call them are those that are not yet ripe but not green, these can still be eaten, and if you are of Indian descent, well these are perfect, especially if you like 'chow' (an Indian dish where fruits are seasoned with peppers and spices). If you pick these mangoes, they will still ripen, so you can still plant a seed in them and in time they will bear fruit.

The green mangoes are not ready to hear the word, but say it still!

My auntie often calls when she has an abundance of mangoes, she gives away as many as she can, but the crop is just too many for her, but what if there were many harvesters?  What if we, the people of God followed our calling to reach one of these 'mango types?' Green, turn, half eaten, fallen and rotting? What if we went out to harvest for such a time as this? (Esther 4, 13-14)

Acts 2:17
And it shall come to pass in the last days, saith God," I will pour out of my Spirit upon all flesh: and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams"


Does nature speak to you? Share with us what it says to you.

Starting at the end is the best place to begin

When you're looking at someone's end to chart your beginning, you're going to get lost.

I had a haunting yearning deep inside my soul that kept screaming - 'You need to write... Just write!' I had managed to subdue the screams with the chaos of life and the myriad of distractions that lie within. I did it successfully for a few years, but on the odd day when I managed to 'be still' (Psalm 46) it crept up to the top of my consciousness with a whisper 'I'm still here and you must still write.'

Obedience has never been my strong point, in fact, I like to oppose things, not even because I disagree with a point, but just for the sake of opposing. I knew God was speaking to me, I knew what He placed deep within but I needed to oppose. Now, I fear God,(Prov. 9:10) so I certainly wasn't going to say an outright No, a girl is disobedient but she ain't no fool...I know 'obedience is better than sacrifice' (1Samuel15:22)- so I procrastinated...OK...OK... delayed, much like Jonah did( we all know where he ended up) but who was I kidding? God always wins!