The Importunate Ixora

 

One day Jesus told his disciples a story to show that they should always pray and never give up. Luke 18:1 NLT

It finally got to me. The little miniature ixora had been tossed aside with no regard as to whether it would live or die. I didn’t care if it died. Five years ago it had been planted with much care in the center planter on the far side of the pool. It was the choice spot. It was the spot that drew the eye as one looked out from the kitchen window to gaze into the back yard, a semi-circular planter in the center on the far side of the screened enclosure. There are two other planters, one in each corner of the far side, but the center spot is the prime location. The ixora, along with three others, accented the hibiscus that grew larger and taller in the middle, two of them on each side of it.  

Each year I looked forward to some growth and to the tiny, yellow flowers they produced. Each year was a disappointment. They did not grow and produced few flowers.  I gave up on them. I replaced them with some deep blue phlox that, I must say, looked absolutely stunning from the kitchen window in the light of the morning sun.

With nary a thought, the ixoras were shoved into a used pot, thrown aside and left for dead by the fence. All of them died, but one. It wouldn’t. Shaded by the oaks overhanging the fence from the neighbor’s yard and clinging to the bit of soil that had not been shaken off when all four of them were uprooted, it refused to die. Every now and then, as I regularly mowed the grass, I would notice it, mildly surprised at its tenacity. Months went by. It lived. Through the spring and the last gasp of summer, it lived.

Finally, two weeks ago, I took pity on it and replanted it in the front yard in the bed that is in front of my office window. I have not watered it. With the constant rains of the last month, I have not needed to. There it has thrived. Last Sunday afternoon, I took notice of the new, green leaves that have begun to sprout and smiled.

Blessings to you all,

Jerald

(All thoughts and opinions expressed herein are solely my own and do not necessarily reflect those of Parrish Medical Center.)

 

 

 

 

Seeing the invisible

Glimmers
October 22, 2009



“It was by faith that Moses left the land of Egypt, not fearing the king’s anger. He kept right on going because he kept his eyes on the one who is invisible.” Hebrews 11:27 (NLT)

It is funny how one thought leads to another, then another and another. Sometimes I try to stop where I am in the thinking process and retrace the mental steps that led me to the current thought. The caboose on today’s thought train was the George Strait song “I Saw God Today.”

Just walked down the street to the coffee shop
Had to take a break
I’d been by her side for eighteen hours straight

Saw a flower growin’ in the middle of the sidewalk
Pushin’ up through the concrete
Like it was planted right there for me to see

The flashin’ lights, the honkin’ horns
All seemed to fade away

In the shadow of that hospital at 5:08
I saw God today (Rodney Clawson; Monty Criswell; Wade Kirby)

I got to George Strait’s song from a prior thought I read in Philip Yancey's book, Prayer. Yancey said as he looks for God in the everydayness of life, “aha” moments “catch me by surprise: a surge of gratitude, a pang of compassion. But they catch me, I have learned, only when I am looking for them,” (Prayer, p. 183).

I have come to believe we can indeed see the One “who is invisible.” I know it is subjective and not objective and that my “seeing” is an act of faith, an interpretation of what I see. In this hospital, I get glimpses of God from time to time.Yesterday I saw God in the face mother’s grief, a young woman’s heart for soldiers far from home, a co-worker’s courage in the face of illness, a volunteer’s determination to be God’s loving presence for a difficult patient and a housekeeper who is as gracious as her name.

What do you see?

Blessings to you all,

Jerald

Miracle Tuesday

Glimmers
August 21, 2009


As often happens, one scene evoked the memory of another. On Facebook this past Tuesday, I wrote the following; “I walked past room 307 and smiled. The man’s chances of ever leaving the hospital were slim. His son kept saying, ‘every day is a miracle.’ Today was no exception.”

The family in question hails from a Southern state and they are only here part of the year. While here, he had fallen gravely ill and recovery was very doubtful. When I first met them in the ICU, one of his sons and a brother-in-law were keeping vigil by his side. “It’s miracle Monday,” the son said with that Southern drawl. “The doctor said if he made it 24 hours, he might have a chance.” “We’re past that.” “Every day is a miracle.” The certainty of his faith lifted mine. It was not the first time that had happened.

As a chaplain resident at the University of Tennessee Medical Center in Knoxville, I was responsible for covering the Emergency Department when on-call. On one such night, the trauma pager went off and I reported to the ED to find out what was happening. I read the board and learned a man had been buried as a ditch had caved in and he was being flown in from Sevier County.

The flight team was administering chest compressions and bagging (breathing for) the patient as they wheeled him into the trauma room. He was not responding. They opened his chest, fluid gushed out and I watched as the physician wrapped his hand around the man’s heart and began squeezing it. To my amazement, it responded.

Shortly thereafter, I met some family and the man’s construction supervisor in a room next the to main ED waiting room. The physician who had accompanied me to report on the man’s progress said, “This is the chaplain.” “He’ll pray with you.” Before I could even take offense at his clumsy and simplistic description of my role, the construction supervisor took over. Covered with dirt from digging his friend and co-worker out of the ditch, his tall frame collapsed to the floor as he began to pray. It was simple, child-like and deeply moving. “I can’t add anything to that except Amen,” I said. A few days later, his once-dead friend was released from the hospital. It was the first time I had witnessed anything close to a miracle. The last one was miracle Tuesday.

Blessings to you all,

Jerald