The air was still misty as my husband and I drove through the hill country of Brenham on an early Saturday morning. We passed acres and acres of ranches without spotting a single car. Cattle, sheep, and goats were grazing in the quiet fields. The wild bluebonnets had been replaced by the endless patches of creamy white prickly poppies and bright yellow coreopsis. Brilliant shades of red, orange, and purple from Indian paintbrush, Indian blankets, and wine cups whispered the prompt arrival of early summer in Texas, as I imagined myself a day in this picturesque European-like countryside.
Chappell Hill Lavender Farm was such a dream come true. Surrounded by everything lavender, I began a deeply relaxing day, a much needed day of rest for my weary body and soul. Perhaps it was the calming effect of the lavender fragrance, or the warm hospitality of this small farm, such peaceful atmosphere opened my introverted heart. Immersed in such beauty, I found myself talking with strangers and listening their stories.
LIVING IDEAS
“In the kind of assent we give to God’s story, we are always given back a transformed vision. We move from the wastescape of a world defined by competition and anxiety to one illuminated by amazement. In our assent to one illuminated by amazement. In our assent to the intimacy and bitterness of our daily faith, we find ourselves walking amidst a mercy we could not earn, could not conjure, will never deserve. We enter its infinitude moment by miraculous little moment, as the world unfolds once more to us in its particularity, its intimacy, its beauty.”
— Sarah Clarkson, Reclaiming Quiet, p.141
At the lavender farm, I signed my husband up for a full two-hour immersion of art and nature: painting on a jute tote bag on the deck.
As our instructor shared her stories, I found myself pondering on how art had healed her body and soul, even after a career had taken a toll on her health; even after a season marked by her husband’s hospital visits and his eye surgery; even when she had “enough to worry about” her two adult sons currently in military serving our country. Yet she also spoke with the joy of retiring to a farm, raising chickens and alpacas, and the excitement of visiting her first grandchild soon.
I watched the two seasoned friends chat and laugh as they painted side by side. They moved from the frustration of shaping sunflower petals to the delight of holding finished pieces they were genuinely proud of. How art and nature had renewed both their confidence and the sparkle of their friendship.
I watched a new mother who, for the first time in two months, had ventured out while caring for her premature baby girl and navigating countless hospital visits. She painted quietly, filling her tote bag with bright strokes of pink, purple, and yellow, while her tender husband lovingly cared for their delicate newborn nearby.
I watched, as my husband set aside his work laptop for a day, suddenly discovered how deeply he needed this pause from the pressures of everyday life, into a dreamy May morning filled with gentle breezes, ancient trees, and an orchestra of chirping birds. With a brush on his hand, a morning of endless possibility and creativity.
Each of us arrived carrying our own burdens. Yet, as we surrendered competition and anxiety, we entered into infinitude, miraculous, little moments, as the Creator met us through beauty, restoring our hearts and transforming us with a renewed vision.
SACRED CALLING
“I have been exhausted for so long that I sometimes can’t remember what it feels like to have something to offer my Creator in these snatched morning prayers. But he remains, and by his presence I am woven back together.
In that weaving, I understand the aching prayers that instigated this search for quiet have culminated not in my perfect striving but in rest. In a nourishment I did not earn. In halcyon quiet. In grace.”
— Sarah Clarkson, Reclaiming Quiet, p.123
While the world is filled with celebrations this Mother’s Day, I am sure many mothers, especially those raising teens, have found ourselves being exhausted, desperate, and discouraged for so long that we sometimes forget how to be still in His presence. And pray.
When I was a new mom, much like that young lady at our painting class, I searched for formulas and quick fixes to navigate the endless challenges with a newborn and the demands of graduate school. As a new believer, I once asked a slightly older mother, who was also beginning her career in academia, for the secret of balancing work and family.
Her simple answer of “just keep praying” left me intimidated, as I was convinced that there must be a secret recipe of becoming a joyful and successful Christian mother.
Fifteen years and three children later, I can admit that my friend was right.
The joy of motherhood in ordinary, mundane moments, came not through perfect systems or carefully crafted plans, but through fervent prayers and a deeper faith. In those fleeting moments of “halcyon quiet.”
Even when my prayers were often brief and imperfect, God faithfully met me through every season. Again and again, He has gathered the scattered pieces of my heart and woven them together with hope, encouragement, nourishment, and grace.
BEAUTY SENSE
In an age overflowing with material abundance, I find that small handmade gifts are often the most precious and irreplaceable.
During the week of Mother’s Day, in the midst of morning lessons, math work, and plenty of cheerful conversation, my daughters spontaneously decided decorate my Juniper Grove journals with illustrations and calligraphy. They also crafted a pair of polished shell earrings and bought me a sheet of lavender stickers. Additionally, my son quietly surprised me with a drawing and a handmade “bracelet” he had secretly created just for me.
As I reflect on this Mother’s Day, from the peaceful beauty of the lavender farm to the handmade treasures waiting for me at home, I am reminded that God often ministers to our weary hearts through the simplest gifts. In the stillness of nature, through the healing power of art, in the stories of other mothers, and in the quiet faithfulness of prayer, He gently restores what has become worn and scattered.
My greatest gift this year is the opportunity to savor this season of life while my children are all under our roof, in the ordinary moments we share, both the mountaintops and the valleys of their lives, and the grace of God who continues to meet me with beauty, encouragement, and love.
Happy Mother’s Day!
Love,
Teresa
P.S. The gigantic murals, painted windows and doors chattered throughout Brenham left a lasting impression on me. I am inspired to be more intentional about filling our home and space with art and beauty, small touches that can quietly nourish our souls in the midst of ordinary days. And somewhere between the painted bluebonnets and rows of lavender, I found myself falling in love with every shade of purplish blue, a color that will forever remind me of this peaceful and restorative little getaway.
