The picture here shows a bundle of “flowering” tea leaves. Tea is a term we use loosely to refer to any aromatic beverage made by steeping dried botanicals, but the long journey of real tea starts as the seed from a tropical evergreen called the Chinese Camilla. First, it is planted in a hot climate, at high elevation, in acidic soil. For a time, it’s given plenty of nutrients and rain. As it matures, it’s not allowed to grow into a tree, instead it’s cultivated and pruned so that it stays a manageable height. Then, just the top couple inches of leaves are plucked, and processed in a variety of ways that may include withering, drying, heating, crushing, bruising, breaking and oxidizing. Later, the leaves may be scented with Jasmine, flavored with fruit infusions, or blended to achieve particular characteristics. Then, it may be left loose or bound, bagged, boxed, and stored where it may be a long time before they get used. Finally, scalding hot water is poured over it and left to sit a while, leaving the tea to ponder all that it used to be and wonder, how exactly did I get here?
My journey has also been an interesting one. I was born in Hollywood, CA when my mom was young and unmarried. She claims she knew right away that I was going to be one of the most wonderful people on the planet. At the time, my biological father was not ready for all that, so my mom and I lived with my grandmother.
Before I can remember, my mom moved out to get a job in LA and my grandmother and I moved to Ventura (couple hours north.) I was sent to a Catholic school because my grandmother was raised Catholic, though she seemed more committed to my getting a good education, than to the faith itself. My mom got married when I was 7 and had my sister Lillee right away. Since they were both working and juggling childcare, I stayed with my grandmother, visited the parents on some weekends, and all 4 of my moms sisters helped with raising me. In many ways, I flourished.
When I was 11, my world changed. Though they said the choice was mine, I was essentially plucked out of the world I knew and taken to a very hot, dry place. You see, my parents were given the opportunity to move with their company to Phoenix, AZ and wanted me to come with them. I was excited for a new adventure and the thought of having a traditional, nuclear family appealed to me, but life was very different. I suddenly had new house rules, a very strict father figure who is only 13 years older than me, and soon there were 3 little sisters to take responsibility for. Not only that, I was attending public school and we didn’t even go to church! Though I was free from many of the religious rigors I had felt weighed down by in Catholic school, I often felt crushed under the pressure to be the perfect child.
By the time I went to college, I had a nagging feeling that I was missing something spiritually. I got involved in Inter-Varsity Christian Fellowship and met some great people that helped me investigate faith, but it took me a while to commit to it. I had a lot of doubts and questions. I also had this cute boyfriend who very wonderful and very agnostic, and he challenged and questioned my every step of faith. Eventually, my heart was changed by seeing God work miraculously in and through people who loved the poor and loved their enemies and trusted in things unseen. This led me to feel convicted not to marry someone who was not on the same page spiritually, so I dumped my boyfriend after 4.5 years. That left both our hearts feeling rather bruised and broken. Despite the emotional drama, I managed to graduate with honors in Environmental Engineering from Northern Arizona University. Later, he came to faith on his own terms and we’ve now been married for almost 11 years!
Early in our marriage, we followed his job out to Boston and joined a Vineyard church. I worked as an engineer for a while, but it was not a good fit for me so I left to work with a computer-training ministry to the underprivileged. Our faith and relationships were growing and fruitful.
After about 4 years, we moved to Chicago to live with my husband’s parents and save money. I must admit I have been blessed with fantastic in-laws and we loved the time that we spent with them. I worked as an accounting assisting with Northwestern University, which I could bike to from their house. We tried the mega-church thing for a while there and grew in our understanding of service and using our gifts for God.
After 2 years there, we followed my husband’s job out to Colorado and bought our first home. We now have two adorable girls and I get to stay home with them. We are also an integral part of this church community called The Refuge. We go to a multi-generational small group, plus I host a mom’s small group. I’m also part of a MOPS group where I’m on the steering team and participate in a Bible Study.
You’d think that with all this spiritual nourishment, I’d be growing and fruitful, but though these things address my needs for social involvement and personal validation, in all honesty I’m feeling really spiritually withered and I sometimes wonder, “how exactly did I get here?”
- I used to spend hours doing inductive Bible studies, using a concordance and color-coding themes, now I’m lucky to complete a single chapter from a Bible study guide once a month
- I used to have long, theological discussions with friends, now I occasionally read Bible stories to the kids
- I used to practice intercessory prayer, now I rarely have the opportunity to pray out loud, and when I do, I often choose not to
- I used to go on missions trips and feed the hungry, now I might make a dinner for a friend who just had a baby
- I used to pray with my husband before we went to sleep, now we’re so exhausted we often don’t to anything before sleep
- I used to keep a prayer journal, recording what God was doing in my life, now I have journals, scrapbooks, a blog and a facebook account, and none of them are up to date
- In addition to all this spiritual dryness, I perpetually feel like I’m not a good enough mom, or wife, or friend, and I have no idea how I’ll ever have a career again
When I look at the flowering tea pictured here, I think about all that it has been through, and how it finally comes into its true purpose. It has turned plain water into an aromatic and delicious liquid with cardiovascular and antioxidant health benefits. I am reminded that it is my whole journey, not just my successes or failures, which make me who I am. I know that I am a treasured child of the most high God, and he has plans to use my life, my history, and my challenges to flavor and bless the world around me. I just need to allow myself to be used by him, to open myself up to trials and risks that may seems scalding at the time, but will cause me to bloom in ways I never expected. In this season of my life, I may feel as though my spiritual life has been shelved and I’m not living up to my potential; but I suspect that I’m not the only mother of young children that feels this way. And maybe the best way I can bless the world around me in this season is to let other people know that they’re not alone either.
2 Corinthians 4:8-10 (New International Version)
We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in us (our body).
To watch a demonstration of flowering tea, check out:
So…um , I hear things.
I’ve never thought of Easter as a season so I’m a little unsure of what it means to intentionally celebrate resurrection for more than one Sunday… or Saturday for that matter.
this past weekend at the refuge in honor of labor day we had an evening of spiritual reflections around the word “rest.” one of the stations was a place to focus on breath. breathing in the life and love of God and breathing out all that hinders. here’s the prayer, it’s from 
in the early 70’s i worked in a very well to do neighborhood. the area around orchard and university boasted houses that, today, would sell for millions of dollars. many ceo’s, business owners and even a few denver broncos resided there and could well afford the lavish lifestyle. but there was another group of people who call this neighborhood home, though they live in the somewhat cheaper homes (the $500,000 ones). they could barely afford the house, but nothing else. no drapes and some rooms had no furniture, at all. to me, this seemed sorta stupid. why not buy a cheaper house that could be easily furnished and enjoyed?
hope. it can mean all kinds of things for different people, but i think it mainly implies “expectation.” a possibility that maybe things could be different, that there’s more to this life than just what we see, that there’s something better ahead. many of us, for all kinds of reasons, are afraid to hope. we have seen many of our dreams dashed. jobs lost. relationships crumbled. addictions destroy. God-not-delivering-the-goods-the-way-we-had-hoped. so we hunker down our hearts and do whatever we can to protect it against believing that good is really possible—again, or maybe for the first time. we settle for loneliness. we settle for disconnectedness. we settle for going-through-the-motions. the thought of something more hurts too much. what if we make ourselves vulnerable and hurt again? what if we try and they all get dashed anyway? what if we risk and lose again? the “what if’s” mount, hope gets held at bay, and we miss out on the thing that Jesus kept pointing to over and over and over again—life now. love now. hope now.
a thanksgiving reflection to consider this week:
the journey through the beatitudes at our sunday evening gatherings has been rich and challenging in all kinds of ways. this week, share some specific way your ideas and heart have been touched by the discussion so far.
as we continue our series on the beatitudes, may this prayer from
