Taste Berries

Psalm 107:8-9 -- "Let them give thanks to the Lord for his unfailing love and his wonderful deeds for men, for he satisfies the thirsty and fills the hungry with good things."

Hacking through the dense vegetation in a humidity so thick that a low mist hung in the air making fat drops of water cling to leaves, Chevalier des Marchais stopped to make notations in his weather-worn notebook. A French cartographer in 1725, he was determined to map the West Coast of Africa for his king. It was an exotic place upon whose ground few dared to tread due to lavish stories of cannibalistic natives and large wild animals. It was in fact, one of these dreaded remote villages of people that recently offered Marchais a much needed respite from his exhibition by offering him food and water. Thinking of the things the villagers had taught him, he reached into his bag for the fat red berries they had eaten with relish before every single meal. It was curious to him when he first noticed the pattern. Every villager old enough to eat solid food would munch on the berries through-out the day, in particular before eating a meal with the rest of their people.

Happenstance would lead to discovery.

Like all good explorers, Marchais carried lemons with him to word off scurvy. In a gesture of kindness when offered the tasty berries, Marchais gave the friendly man with the bright white teeth one of his lemons in trade. As the two men sat with their mouths full of sweet tangy fruit, Marchais cut open the lemon and gave a wedge to his new friend. Showing him how to eat it, Marchais discovered that the additional saliva produced in his mouth in anticipation of the sour citrus was for naught - the lemon was not sour. It took a moment for him to realize that the "taste berries" changed the way the lemon tasted. It was then that Marchais knew the reason for the berry fascination in this village. While indeed,"tasty", as the tribe had described them - the berries had an almost miraculous ability to actually change the way all other foods interacted with one's taste buds. Amazing. He was eager to share this discovery with the Royal Court upon his return to France.

Since its discovery back in 1725, the "taste berry" or "miracle fruit" has been used in countless countries and even more diets for it's unique properties. Kind of like rose-colored glasses for the tongue.

Like every other human on the planet, my life has often been riddled with the bitter taste of lemon/trouble that leaves the soul a little sore from the twang and sour. It wasn't until I read One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp almost two years ago that I learned to be determined to grow a grateful heart. You see, we have been given life's unfailing "taste berries". A miracle that changes the way life's bitter interacts with the taste receptors in our spirit.

Paul tried to express this in his letters to the churches when he said that he knew the secret to success and went on to say that it was a grateful heart content in whatever circumstance upon which he was thrown. I was reminded of this today in Psalm 107:8-9. We do, indeed, have the opportunity to partake of a miracle life fruit - a thankful heart.

It is with a thankful and contented spirit that the bitter/sour taste of trouble and trauma can be swallowed with less offense to our taste buds. It will not change the fact that the bitter/sour exists. Nor will it change the fact that we encounter it from time to time - but it will most certainly change the way it abruptly accosts our palate.

As I have previously shared, when handed a lemon in my life now, I skip the lemonade and try my hand at a full-blown lemon meringue pie. Obviously there are still a few things I have to learn in order to perfect this interesting recipe - but each time my feet stumble on an obstacle in my life path, I try even harder to get it right. The most important thing I've learned in this journey - is that there REALLY IS so very much for which to be thankful. No matter the fruit we are given, God's love IS unfailing. He ALWAYS provides. And we are ALL forgiven.

No matter what.

One Of These Things....

Romans 8:15 -- "For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of sonship. And by him we cry 'Abba, Father'."

 

As a gentle mist still hides much of the grassy banks and bull frogs belch out their fare-the-wells, an attentive Lesser Scaup duck takes her chicks to the middle of a pond to feed.  Dabblers instead of divers, it's sometimes funny to watch the ducks slip their beaks just below the surface with their tail feathers sticking strait up into the air in search of some hidden delectable treasure. Watching the little brood, it becomes apparent that not all of these chicks have the same coloration.

Either this wonderful mother is kindly chick-sitting a neighbors hatchlings, or her nest has been parasitized [hijacked, if you will]. A closer inspection of this tight family unit provides proof positive that the Lesser Scaup mother has been duped into raising a couple of Redheaded chicks along with her own. The Redheaded duck is notorious for "sharing" her offspring with other duck mothers by laying her eggs in more than just her own nest. She does this to increase the chances of her chick's survival in a quite literal translation of the age-old advice not to put all your eggs in one basket. 

But the mother Scaup doesn't seem to notice that her children don't all look the same. She loves each of them without prejudice. She dabbles for food right along side her little brood and will fiercely defend them to the very best of her ability taking no heed of their different colors. A truly seamless adoption if ever there was one.

One of my favorite verses in the Bible is Romans 8:15. There is joy in knowing that we have been granted the precious gift of sonship. Though we all come from different places on Earth, we all have different cultures, languages, and different DNA - we are ALL given this sonship through the blood of Jesus Christ. It doesn't matter that our feathers aren't all the same color - each of us is equally loved. Equally cared for. Equally defended as children of One Father.

It breaks my heart that in all of our technical, social, and economical development as co-inhabitants of this blue planet - we have yet to grow into truly color blind people. Not a single one of us - based on our efforts - escapes falling short of God's glory as born sinners. Not a one of us is able to march up to the gates of Heaven and enter a pass-code earned by the color of our skin or the superiority of our cultural heritage.

Romans 8:15 does not differentiate between skin tone, annual income, or societal rank. Nor does John 3:16 exclude any group of people based on tribe, territory, or birthright. No, Jesus bled out on that rugged cross for each and every one of us.

If the simple mother Lesser Scaup can love and raise a brood of chicks with blended blood lines and different colored feathers without giving any thought to color or creed -- why is it that we of the bigger brains and greater understanding cannot do the same?

A Time For Tea

Ephesians 4:2a -- "Be completely humble and gentle;"

Many things come to mind when I think of the Africa of my childhood. The bush-babies running rampant on our roof during the night, the drums set to a distant rhythm as people beat out the local news from village to village, the dry red sand in which I used to play tirelessly, and of course, the Baboon that stared at my mother and I through the glass of the large bay window in our living room.   AND - it was in Africa when I was first introduced to the concept of afternoon tea.

A hold-over from British influence, it made perfect sense to pause during the hottest hours of the day - when the sun would blaze from strait over head and the thermometer could tip at a sweltering 42.5 degrees Celsius [108.5 degrees Fahrenheit]. Our mother would announce the time for tea, and it was from her that I learned the importance of taking a break.

Along with a much needed respite from the heat, however, there was something wonderful in the gentle humble service with which Mom would set up the table and pour the hot brew into our cups. The delicate clink of teacups on saucers and mouths full of peanut-butter sandwiches was something I'll always remember. Tea time introduced to me a wonderful formality and graceful art to the need for an afternoon snack. For Mom, it interrupted the often hyper play of her two daughters when it was too hot for them to burn off energy outside.

For me? I saw a graceful and gentle humility.

Mom would set the table, she would lay out napkins and pretty plates. In her heart was a desire to share a special moment between the three of us. She took great care in every detail and would not call to my sister and I until everything was set just right. It was a precious moment that I will carry with me always.

Thinking back on tea time with my mother I can't help but be reminded of the graceful humility Jesus gave when he chose to wash the feet of his disciples. It was more than just an act of making feet clean. It was a precious moment - an intimacy shared with people about whom Jesus cared a great deal. A respite from activity, yes - but so much more - was the love expressed in a very humble action. Greater than the words "I love you" kneeling at the foot of another human being showed respect. It showed deference. It showed HUMILITY.

In Ephesians 4:2 we are reminded how very important it is to express gentle humility. Today I was reminded of how very important it was receive tea during a hot African afternoon. Our mother was expressing her love for my sister and I in a very precious way.

In our very busy lives - perhaps even greater than the need to stop and smell the roses is the need for us to stop and take time out to serve. Maybe we need to stop and tike time for tea.

Ebb & Flow

Ephesians 2:10 -- "We are God's workmanship ... "

Big Talbot - Kelly Babb Dalton

Clinging to jutting roots as we descend down the cliff face it takes all the strength we have to control the speed at which we slip, trip, and spill onto the beach below. One of our favorite non-tourist spots, the things we love about Big Talbot Island make it less desirable as a go-to sun bather's paradise. The beach is littered with fallen live oaks, palm fronds, and debris. The shore is short with a steep drop off that's used as a shipping lane and clay deposits like to cling to the bottoms of your feet if you decide to wade into the surf.

It's paradise for hikers, though. On this beach we have discovered old glass bottles still intact from the 1930's, an amorous group of horseshoe crabs, two bald eagles, and unspent 50 cal shells fr
om WWII.

Big Talbot - Kelly Babb Dalton

What we see as a wonderful day spent hiking the wild Florida coast line is actually evidence of some pretty significant erosion. Each year, the cliff face retreats by a few more inches and more oak trees take a tumble over the edge.

Far way from the cluttered debris field of the East Coast sea shore, a group of men study some old growth spruce trees just at the edge of the timber line on the high side of a mountain ridge. These spruce trees are highly prized for violin makers. The high winds, winter storms, and sparse soils make the tree respond with thicker sap. Rough elements and a short growing season cause the trees to produce a highly sought-after wood with a desirable texture perfect for the beautiful sound of a violin. Were it not for the thinner air and harsh environment, these spruce trees would not be considered any more precious than other old growth trees on the timber line.

In fact, it's the ware and tare - gentle destruction, if you will - that make these two very different places desirable to some. Every day the waves eat away at Big Talbot, and every day the harsh weather and mountain climate slam into the spruce trees.

Each human being that experiences some tough ware and tare in life develops "growth rings". Old scars perhaps, or a few cracks and chinks that make each one of us unique. These things in the Hands of God shape us for His purpose. The gentle molding and shaping in our lives develop each of us into a beautiful instrument that can resonate God's presence. We are the handiwork of our Creator and each tumble we take softens up our rough edges allowing God to create something beautiful.

Before Honor ...

Proverbs 15:33 -- "The fear of the Lord teaches a man wisdom, and humility comes before honor."

Leaning up against my red 1986 two-door Chevy Sprint, I casually glanced around at my fellow patrons of an old gas station.  I could see that others were successful in their endeavor to refuel their cars - but the mechanics of the gas pump continued to allude me. In the country of my child-hood, all gas was pumped by an attendant. There was no "self-serve" and it hadn't occured to me - on this, my very first pit-stop for gasoline - that things might be different in the U.S.

 Again, I inspected the the handle on the pump. For the life of me, I could not guess why there was no gas coming from it's nozzle.

Missionary Kids often find themselves discretely looking around in the hope that they might learn of some function or form in an unfamiliar environment. Usually this results in success. For example, when first stepping foot back on US soil as our family retired from the mission field in the Philippines, the Atlanta airport sported some fancy bathroom equipment - the likes of which I had never seen. It took a careful reconnoiter of other travelers using the sink for me to learn that the faucet was indeed functional without handles. One simply had to place their hands under the thing and the motion detecter located on the back of the sink would trigger the water valve. [fascinating!]

As I stood at the gas pump pretending to read the huge warning regarding fire safety, I could not figure out why my attempt to mimic those around me were not a success. Each time I placed the nozzle from the gas pump into my tank, nothing would come out and the lazy numbers on the gallon counter refused to flip. I finally gave up and went inside to ask the cashier for some instructions. 

No question about it, I felt intensely stupid as the woman behind the counter just looked at me with a slightly disdained expression while she informed me that I had to flip the leaver on the nozzle bracket upward. Only then would the trigger for the pump "unlock" and release the fuel. It was a small but crucial step that I could not witness from my "social shield" behind the large pump. Tucking my pride away while walking into the gas station was the only thing I could do to ensure my ride home would not leave me on the side of the road with an empty gas tank. And while I DID feel really inadequate, I had no choice but to stop and ask for help.

Sometimes - maybe more often than not - our pride gets in the way of our witness. Proverbs 15:33 addresses this issue by reminding us that "humility comes before honor." So often this is true! When we review the lives of those people that we consider honorable - stop and ask yourself - what makes this person honorable in my eyes? It's more likely to be a behavior they have rather than a label/title they automatically carry.

Jesus himself, was humble. He did not choose to be born in the circumstances befitting his title - and yet - he was the most honorable human being ever to walk this earth!

The Best Of Me

I Corinthians 1:9 -- "You were called into the fellowship of His Son, Jesus Christ our Lord."

At Ponte Vedra - by Kelly Babb Dalton

That wonderful smell on a westward breeze that brings with it salt, sand, and green sea plants filled my lungs and I sighed deeply. The Atlantic Ocean, still cold from winter, rolled in over my toes giving me goose bumps and brought a smile to my lips. My dearest friend in the whole world walked beside me. His head bent down in a low setting sun as he looked for shark's teeth among the caches of shells exposed by an outgoing tide. This man brought out the best in me and walking next to my husband along the Florida sea shore brought back sixteen years of wonderful memories.

I like me best with I'm with Steven. I am myself. I am relaxed. I am filled with the joy that comes from being his wife and the mother of our two boys. I am strong. I am confident. I am clear-headed and intelligent. There can be no doubt that I have grown walking next to him. I have learned more about the grace and love of Jesus Christ from him than I have from any other human being. And walking next to him on date night, picking up shark's teeth from a nearly deserted beach as the sun slips below the horizon - is very much like coming home for me.

I think back to the very first time we strolled the sands, hand-in-hand - the beginning of a new passion for the history that can be gleaned from the sands along the Eastern Seaboard. It was right before we got married. Walking with Steven like this - is just as wonderful now as it was back then, sixteen years ago. I am aglow in his fellowship - and I am proud of who I am.

I like me best when I'm with Steven.

This morning when I read verse 9 in I Corinthians chapter 1 -  I was reminded what warm fellowship we are granted in the grace of our Lord, Jesus Christ. We can be ourselves. Completely relaxed and filled with the joy that comes from being bought with a fervent passion like no other on Earth. We can grow. We can thrive. We can flourish.

Tried and true fellowship brings a richness that can not be found in any other place. Only in a true friendship can we say that we like ourselves best. Fellowship that brings out the best in us: pushing us when we need to grow, rejoicing with us when we triumph, and holding us tenderly when the tears fall uncontrollably - THAT is a fellowship to be treasured. And THAT is what we are given in the fellowship of our Savior.

A fellowship in which we like ourselves best, the only fellowship in which we are totally free of our faults, of our sins, and of our shortcomings. Jesus gives us a fellowship within which we can truly grow - within which we can like ourselves best.


How very precious is that?

Foot Folly

Psalm 37:23-24 -- "The Lord delights in the way of the man whose steps he has made firm; though he stumble, he will not fall, for the Lord upholds him with his hand."

Leaving her heart-ache and misery behind her, at the age of 16 Ffyona Campbell walked through the door of her simple Scottish house in John O' Groates and simply kept on walking. 838 miles later in Land's End, she decided to keep on going and hopped the pond where she continued from New York to San Fransisco. A long walk, indeed - however deeply driven, she continued from Sidney Australia to Perth and then from Cape Town, South Africa to Tangiers, Morocco.

Still marching forward, she journeyed from Spain to Raleigh and became the youngest woman to have walked the entire globe. Skirting war-torn lands, closed boarders, and even a mine field at one point, Ffyona just kept putting one foot in front of the other. Walking twenty-five miles at a stretch, she never faltered in her motivation and developed an independent strength that kept her going, and going, and going. In her firm footsteps she didn't fall down to failure once. 

It might be said that Ffyona was literally running from all her troubles - but that is indeed what the Lord tells us to do. In the book of Psalms He even says that He's delighted in our foot-falls and will uphold us with His hands.

There are plenty of moments when our feet get tired, when our hearts ache for the struggle of fighting against human nature or we battle to avoid the land mines of a world that has turned it's back on God. But - if we rely on our Savior for strength, we will not fall to failure. Though we may seem to trip up from time to time, the Lord will uphold us. And like Ffyona Campbell, we may even discover joys along the way and learn to enjoy the journey.

Power Struggle

Romans 9:20 -- "But who are you, O man, to talk back to God?"

One look at the sweet, angelic little face of my two year old niece and you know right away that she came into this world ready to take it over. Fiercely independent and quite determined there are moments when she doesn't seem to realize that she's a child, but interacts with the rest of us as if she were a tiny adult. I'm quite confident that God has marvelous things planned for this little juggernaut.

As her parents, however, my brother and his wife have - on occasion - got their hands full. [As do all of us parents, from time to time.] I could not be more proud of them - all of them - as I watch their family unit interact. It brings a warmness to my heart. And in spite of the tiny little power struggle going on in the background as my sister-in-law attempts to put a very tired little girl to bed, I smile at the joy of hearing it. There is a fuzzy-warm kind of humor in it, as the little person attempts to outwit and out-scream the bigger person, she feels quite sure that she can win this battle of wills. In the end, of course she doesn't, and her patient but firm and gentle mother gets the tiny little rocket off to dream land. My brother and his wife have mastered the balance of gracefully allowing their daughter to develop her independence while at the same time they firmly establish their authority. It's quite a unique dance to witness. In the end, the parents have the lead in this dance - and my niece is "waltzed" into obedience.

How often do we test our own Father in a power struggle? There may be a kind of humor in this battle, as well, I suppose - as we think we actually have the right to "talk back" to our Creator or challenge His authority. But Paul reminds us in the book of Romans to remember who we really are. Who are we to think that we can argue with God? Defy His will? Or flat out disrespect Him by challenging His authority as our King?

In the time of Paul and his letters to the Roman church, if a person were to challenge the King they quickly found themselves rebuked - often in a very painful way. Sometimes property was taken, a finger or a tongue removed, or worse - the offender was sentenced to death. The point is, they knew their place and very few were willing to test the King's patience. Those who did learned quickly enough that there were severe consequences for their rebellion.

Have we forgotten? Are we so far removed from reverence that we take for granted the authority and power of our Father?

I find that I am guilty of this and like my niece - need to be reminded from time to time - I am only the child. God is THE Father.