bsmiles and sunny days

One year at church camp, each cabin huddled up. We took turns standing in the center of the huddle, while everyone else said something encouraging to that person. I loved every minute of it.  I am a builder. Words are my love language. I love to build people up, and be built up, so to spend 30 minutes engaging on both the giving and receiving ends, as well as observing others was nourishing for me. It was one of my favorite camp memories. During my turn in the middle one girl said, “I wish I could put you in my pocket and take you back to school with me so I could say, ‘I have a Becca and you don’t!’” That was 30 years ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday.  When Moses showed me the post-it note he had received, I was over the moon. His Sunday school class did a similar activity, but they wrote the encouragement down instead of saying it out loud. My kids talked about it for days. It was a precious offering from one kid to another. I stuck the note on my fridge to remind me to s

Our church pulled out all the stops for VBS. They always do, but this year was like a grand re-entry after a year of Covid restrictions. My kids were so excited they could hardly sleep. When I snapped this photo, I had just broken the news to the boys that it was over. Their medals shined a little less at the prospect of waiting a whole year for it to happen again. I was blown away by how many people showed up every single night to help. There were over 100 volunteers that showed up night after night. Each time I walked in to pick up kids, I felt a little regretful that I couldn’t volunteer this year. In the helping, there is more that takes place. Community is built. Roots go deeper. Connections happen. People that don’t know anyone on Monday have a place to belong by Thursday. It’s the part I always forget about. When the people of God make sacrifices for the kingdom by showing up, He rewards them abundantly. Hearts are secured. Lives are transformed. Relationships are established. I

  I had my first hand-held video game when I was in grade school. It had two buttons, L and R, that were used to dodge cars and debris in the road. I was insanely jealous when my brother was given a watch that he could play Pac-Man on. I love video games. I love them too much. When Dale and I were first married I used to sit at the computer and play Burger Shop for hours and hours. As a young mom I spent all my free moments playing Solitaire on the desktop. In my darkest depression I played Diner Dash while the days and weeks passed unnoticed. I can remember feeling the shame of wasting so much time staring at a screen. My hand would cramp up from holding the mouse, and instead of taking that as a cue to stop, I’d shake my hand out and keep clicking away. My vices, while they may seem harmless, entrap me nonetheless. Sugar and video games work like quicksand. I dip my toes in and before I know it I’m sick to my stomach and I can’t move my hand. Pornography is an easy dodge. Overindulge

  After I graduated high school, I spent the summer in Chicago working with a ministry that served the inner city. It was my first long-term experience away from home, and it was like my eyes were open for the first time. I saw beauty everywhere I looked.  Our dorms were in a quiet neighborhood away from the hustle of the city, so we did a lot of driving. I remember longing to pull the van over so I could run through the fields of wildflowers. I grew up un Kansas, the sunflower state, and had never wanted to run through a field before. Somehow when I was on my own, the tiny faces of the flowers in the most unsuspecting places caught my attention. God was calling my name. Yesterday I spent part of the afternoon pulling weeds at the farm where I have a small garden. I’m not good at gardening yet. I’m still learning how to decipher weeds from seedlings. I had to look outside the perimeter of my garden for comparison. That was when I noticed the wildflowers blooming. As I walked through th

 It’s a small thing to plant seeds and see them springing up out of the ground, but it brings me an exorbitant amount of joy. It’s crazy to me that at middle-age I am still learning such elementary skills as gardening. Just like when I bought six packages of green bean seeds, I didn’t realize that there are different stalks and bushes, and they grow different kinds of beans. I’m watching these little sprouts to see if they will need to be staked or caged. I have no idea what they will do as they reach for the sky. I can only hope that they will produce a harvest that is as wonderful as seeing these tiny sprouts come out of the ground. Whether they do or don’t I am thankful in the waiting. “They sowed fields and planted vineyards that yielded a fruitful harvest; he blessed them, and their numbers greatly increased, and he did not let their herds diminish.” ‭‭Psalms‬ ‭107:37-38‬ ‭NIV‬‬ https://www.bible.com/111/psa.107.37-38.niv

  This may come as a shock to some people, but I’m extremely maternal. The impulse to nurture shows up in the weirdest ways. I sweet-talk my sourdough. I pray over my plants and tell them they are beautiful. I have been doting on my little garden every chance I get. It’s brings me an unreasonable amount of happiness to go out in the cool of the day and watch the sprinkler sway, dousing each little plant with refreshment.  With that in mind, you can see how it would pain me to pluck these beautiful buds off as they are beginning their formation. These are my strawberry plants. They need to spend their energy building a strong root system, rather than blooming and growing strawberries, at least not this year. It’s for their own good, but it still hurts me a little when they are trying so hard. Don’t worry, little darlings... Next year you will bring a bountiful harvest the likes of which you cannot even begin to imagine! “...every branch that bears fruit, He prunes it so that it may bear