Heirloombulbgirl

Tag: faith

  • Growing Deep Roots

    It is August in Texas, and we all know what that means…

    Gardening has halted. Gardeners throughout Texas are in a complete state of depression. Gardens look as though the angel of plant-death has walked in through the side gate. Currently, there are three color hues featured in the August Texas garden… yellow-brown, brown and charred toast. Everything around is crisp, even our attitudes. August is the time of year when Texas gardeners take a train ride on a downhill spiral, questioning why anyone in their right mind would ever want to live in a climate such as this, let alone try to establish a garden. After a few “woe is me” conversations with my husband (and a swift come-to-Jesus talk) I am reminded of a few truths about living and gardening in seasonal droughts.

    First, seasons of drought won’t last forever. That’s a promise. The rains will come and the temperatures will cool off. It’s important to keep our eyes on the big picture. We plant gardens for tomorrow’s beauty. Some seasons are for rest and other seasons are for preparing for the good stuff that is coming. Seasons of drought can give the gardeners both rest and anticipation, if we keep ourselves in the right mindset.
    Second, more importantly, plants and their gardeners must have deep roots to survive seasonal droughts. This is where faith steps into the picture. Roots reach down and cling to the life source of water, deep beneath the surface. Gardeners everywhere must do the same. We can’t have superficial hope. We must not give up. We simply can’t quit gardening, nor sit in the grief and mourn the unending seasons of drought. Gardeners must have a deep rooted faith and believe upon the promise that “Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life”.

    Life isn’t perfect my friends. Seasonal droughts in the Texas Hill Country are to be expected. We shouldn’t be surprised when the temperatures rise well into the triple digits. August is a very dry season, but Fall is coming. I don’t know many areas (or gardeners) that don’t experience hard seasons from time to time.
    Deep roots aren’t developed in perfect growing conditions with fake flowers and white picket fences. We grow deep roots when times are tough. We reach down, pull up our boots and somehow find the same grit that our ancestors had as they overcame their particular hard seasons and obstacles. Whether it was a 14 year old Danish orphan who traveled alone to America for a better life, or a young child from a family of Texas sharecroppers who painted this lovely little flower, while resting on break from the hot Texas sun. Roots are desperately needed during the hard seasons life. Roots become the preservation of the garden and the soul of the gardener.

    Texas gardens never cease to amaze me. With such harsh drought conditions, these plants simply refuse to die. Instead, they simply retreat under the earth, drop a few leaves and start focusing on growing deeper roots. Texas plants and gardeners waste no time or energy on false pretenses, investing in plants that grow roots. Deep roots like that of a 300 year old Live Oak Tree. I love growing native Lantana, Salvia, Cow Pen Daisy, Desert Willow and (of course) Heirloom Bulbs.
    During seasons of drought, some folks might see a burnt landscape, but the Texas gardener sees beyond. We focus on what will be, not what is. We have faith that the season of drought will indeed end, remembering that Faith is the assurance of things hoped for and believing in the things unseen. During seasons of drought, plant your garden for the beauty of tomorrow.

    Know in your heart that seasons of drought won’t last forever.

    Rest and prepare for the good stuff that is to come.

    Believe that deep roots last, much like that 100 year old child’s painting, so root yourself in Faith.

    Grow your roots, my friends. Grow deep, deep roots.

    Know, rest, believe and Grow.

    Happy Gardening!

  • The Rugged Dreamers

    Today is America’s birthday. 250 years of freedom.

    When I imagine what the word “freedom” looks like, I instantly think of this photo. Montana was once a world that existed vastly untouched and still just a territory. The mountainous environment was vast and sparkling clean. The human footprint had yet to interfere with God’s created beauty. Mankind stepped into this relatively unknown world, for brief moments, to simply taste the essence of ultimate physical freedom. There is a rugged beauty to this photo. Words cannot describe the majesty one feels in environments such as this. Maybe that’s why there is a bit of the rugged dreamer in all of us. We want to taste and inhale that incredible physical freedom of the photo. What a vast contrast to the modern world of the 21st century!
    Freedom looks different now.

    Freedom, when the word is dissected, is the ability to live without the constraints of the outside world or other humans. We celebrate freedom, but most of us don’t actually know what true freedom is. We can’t fathom what living *without* freedom even looks like. In many parts of the world, freedom is as foreign to them as the rugged mountain dreamers on horseback. Even as I type this little blog, I am keenly aware that some young women around the world are being beaten and killed for simply doing what I am doing…speaking my mind.

    Freedom, in the simplest form, is the ability to simply be. I can live as I want to live, marry whom I choose and have children, play and sing with exultation, worship the Lord and pray without fear….fear of being found out, disowned or even killed.
    Imagine that. Being killed for who you choose or not choose to love or the God you choose to worship.
    America was born so that someone like me is free. Free to write, free to grow things, free to love, free to speak, and the freedom to not say anything at all. I am free. I am that rugged dreamer on horseback.

    America, the home of the free, has had some incredible stories the past…the Western expansion, the Great Depression, World Wars, Ellis Island, the Pilgrims, the Civil War, 9/11 and so, so many more incredible moments in history. Each unique period has tried our character and tested our fortitude, but we have never lost our freedom. Americans, the rugged dreamers, have continued to desire to create a better future for their children and the next generations. Though we may not always understand each other, having different life experiences, in the end we are still free. For that, I will never cease to be thankful.

    May each of us remember what true freedom is.

    May we not get weighed down, and always hold on to that “rugged dreamer” inside each of us.

    May we be grateful and thankful for the freedoms we do have.

    May we pray without ceasing for those who don’t have freedom. Life looks very different for them.

    Happy Birthday America!

  • Turning Graves into Gardens. Flood Relief Fundraiser with Heirloom Oxblood Lilies

    Turning Graves into Gardens…

    The last week and a half have been beyond any words.
    I honestly have nothing. There are simply not enough sentiments to express the sorrow of the loss of children and families during the devastating flash floods in the Texas Hill Country. The damage is overwhelming, but the loss of life is gut-wrenching. God promises that He will turn “mourning into dancing” and “Graves into Gardens”, as I was reminded by my student Malaya’s father. Malaya helped save her siblings from their van that was swept into the water, but unfortunately, she didn’t make it.

    Turn mourning into dancing? Graves into Gardens?
    How is that even possible? As a mother, I could not imagine that there would ever be a day that I could dance again. But time is nothing to God. God dwells in the eternal. He sees the lives touched by the last moments of goodness. He sees beyond. He sees the light of those that have been brought to literally to millions. It’s hard to fathom, but Faith must to step in and carry our heartbreak for us.

    Faith is there to pick us up when we fall on our faces in grief.

    Faith is there to guide us when we can’t move forward.

    Faith is there to gently encourage our broken hearts.


    There is no answer to the age old question..Why? Why do bad things happen to good people, and why do good things happen to bad people? Why do children get hurt? Why the pain and destruction of this world? I cling to the promises of the Lord. There will be a day where there is no more sorrow, no more tears, no more pain and no more heartbreak. The lion will lie down with the lamb and be at peace.

    Until that day, we carry on. We do what we can for our neighbor, and we love God through the high moments of life, and through the lowest of lows. We have no words, only acts of random bits of kindness and comfort.

    I don’t have much, but I do have flower bulbs. I’m offering a sweet family of Oxblood Lilies, in honor of my student Malaya Hammond, with 100% donation going to families affected by the devastating floods. I know three families personally, as well as the loss of Malaya, a beloved viola student. You can purchase bulbs on Etsy, contact me by email, or reach out to me somehow. All proceeds (after shipping/fees) will go directly to donation. I’ve been using Venmo, with a picture receipt for each donation. There is a children’s grief camp, Ark, an organization that helped us during the 2018 flood. Ark is mucking out houses and providing housing, clothes, furniture etc at no cost, as well as the individual families I’ve mentioned. Thus far, Heirloombulbgirl has raised over $900 and has already sent it on out to families!
    Thank you to every who already ordered and “planted joy” in the midst of sorrow. We are called to make the world a better place, and to be the “light on the hill”….Malaya, your sweet soul lived that.
    For more information, please feel free to email Heirloombulbgirl@gamil.com

    with love, Keenan

  • The Moment Defined

    There are moments in life that define us, for the better or for the worse.
    Moments that change everything in us and all around us. The moments I have seen in the devastating fires of California have flooded my thoughts. I can’t seem to look away. I understand all too well the complete and utter loss of “losing everything” in a single moment. There are no words.

    I see them.

    I hear them.

    I know them.

    I remember standing in line at the Red Cross on the morning after, with all the other “flood victims” (as we were politely referred to). An older woman standing in front of me had been visibly shaken. I found myself trying to comfort her. She sobbed and talked, and I simply listened. She told me about the boat rescue, the 7 inches of water that flooded her house and her fear of the water that came up so fast. She finally took a breath, looked up at me and asked “So what happened to you? How much water did you have in your house?”

    “Seven feet of water in less than 10 minutes.”

    She said nothing but just stared at me, as if to apologize for her own “lesser-than” trauma. I smiled, hugged her and said
    “There is no measurement of loss. It’s all the same.”

    Right then and there, I learned a very important life lesson….Loss is loss. Trauma is trauma. There is not a measurement of trauma as if “Mine is worse than yours”. Trauma holds no competition and takes no winners. We are all in the same boat together. Each one of us has our own story, but what we do *after* that defining moment is what truly matters. Will we let bitterness set in? Will we become callus or envious? Will we become trauma “victims” or trauma “survivors”? I do admit, standing in the pouring rain with only the clothes on our backs was a very humbling experience. Where was I going to get clean and dry panties? (A real-life concern) How could I comfort my family when I, myself was going through so much? Where would we even live? How can one simply start over and rebuild from scratch? All overwhelming thoughts, so all I could do is live moment to moment, salvaging anything I could. I poured into salvaging my gardens, digging bulbs at the “flooded house” every single day. The gardens saved my sanity.

    One day, as I walked along what-used-to-be my beloved “Garden of Eden”, I looked down and saw my Grandmother’s broken china with her Bible memory verse “The Lord is my Shepherd. I shall not want.” It was that moment, out of all my moments, defined me…

    Everything I had lost, He would provide.
    Everything I needed, He would provide.
    Everything I wanted, He would provide.

    I had been over and over those gardens for months, salvaging bulbs, but somehow I missed that little treasure. Maybe I hadn’t been ready to fully rely on the Lord’s provision the way sheep rely on their shepherd. Maybe I was looking for comfort in the wrong place or maybe I was just too caught up in my own minutia of trying to rebuild. Whatever the reason, I found my moment.

    ”The Lord is my Shepherd. I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul. He leads me in the path of righteousness for His name’s sake.

    Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil. For You are with me. Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.

    You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies, You anoint my head with oil, my cup runs over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” Psalm 23

    If anyone has specific loss that you’d like prayer for, feel free to email me… heirloombulbgirl@gmail.com I don’t have all the answers, but I’ve walked through this walk and there is hope on the other side.

    If you know friends or family members who lost everything…give gift cards or Venmo for a great starting place. Be listeners not fixers. Be present through their grief and allow them time to process the loss. Their lives will never be the same, but may we all be defined in the moments after…relying fully and completely on The Good Shepherd.

    Ps….Oxblood Lilies will be shipped out to anyone who is starting over, at no cost, When you are ready, your “Redemption Lily” will be ready for you.
    Happy Gardening, my friends.

  • The Fallow Ground

    Fallow ground….A long period of just nothingness in hopes of restoration.
    Apparently, it is a good farming technique that allows the land to rest and recuperate after numerous hard farming seasons. Waiting on fallow ground to recover can actually take years. Those are hard seasons to wait upon.
    I don’t like those seasons. I honestly don’t like to wait. I wanted my Tasha Tudor gardens planted “now” (or yesterday). But, in my studio’s case, the fallow ground was all I had to work with.
    I grumbled, complained and begrudgingly stuck salvaged flower bulbs anywhere I could, completely avoiding eye contact with the land of nothingness. But things changed after the flood. ALL the gardens at the flooded house had to be relocated. I had to look eye to eye with that piece of fallow ground and begin restoration.


    Restoration of the fallow land was indeed a lofty goal. Quite frankly, I wasn’t sure if I was up to the calling. The long “wait” was just too long. The Lord was actually trying to do good things in the fallow ground, but my heart was too hardened to take notice. I needed more time in the “wait”. Maybe I’m just stubborn and didn’t have eyes to see what He was doing. Maybe I was used to grumbling over the imperfections, or maybe the Lord just wanted me to look upon stillness for a bit to watch the restoration unfold. Whatever the case, I was stuck with a whole lot of nothing. Literally…..a house lot of nothing but stickers, rocks and thorns.

    To the gardener, fallow ground gives the field a chance to rest. Over planting and plowing, (or in my case, chicken and duck grazing) causes stress to the earthly balance of nature’s ecosystem. The delicate world of microorganisms is destroyed and the soil becomes depleted. Letting the earth simply rest allows restoration and balance to simply step in, and work the soil back to heath naturally. The “wait” is the hardest part.

    Here are a few steps I took to begin the restoration of the fallow land.

    Step one….I had to be ok with the fact that my garden was not Pintrist-perfect. This sounds so silly, but my mental game was the largest hurdle I had to cross (just ask my husband). I struggled when I walked into the back part of the studio grounds and saw nothingness. “I remember when my other gardens had rich soil full of earthworms, but *this* land is_______” I had a lot of choice words that I could fill in the blank. The conditions of the land played a negative mental trip on me. I didn’t like the ground I had to work with, so I simply gave up on that part of the studio. I had to step back and rethink my vision. So, step one is simple…a much needed attitude adjustment in the mind of the gardener.

    Step two….let the wild things grow. After stepping back from my negative attitude, I began to see the fallow ground in a different light. Little native flowers were appearing out of nowhere. My favorite flower to come on the scene was Stork’s Bill, a beautiful purple flower to emerge in early Spring. The seeds are fascinating to children and truly do look like a stork’s bill. I even had adorable little, native rain lilies appear like they owned the place. Why had I never seen them before? I slowly encouraged the good natives to grow as I pulled up the stickers and thorns that had choked out the flowers and overrun the land. What is it with thorny things that love delapitated conditions?!

    Step three…pull out the stones and rocks that weighed the potential gardens down. Nothing grows in stone. Even people avoid stony personalities. After digging in the fallow ground, I found piles of underground stone that had been dumped onto the land. Apparantly my studio grounds had once been a dumping ground for unwanted rubble. How apropos. I dug the little pieces of rock and created a pathway throughout the property. The more I dug, the more little native flowers appeared. The larger rocks were used to create garden beds. True fallow land is complete rest, but I felt the nudge to “just do something” in the long wait.

    Step four….just keep digging. The road to restoration was long, and for many days, I was tired. I was tired of filling up my bucket of stickers after violin lessons. Tired of my hands hurting. Tired of digging and finding only rock. Tired of looking at nothingness. Just tired. But the Lord stepped in, as He always does, and quietly whispered “Just keep digging”. I’ve realized that the restoration of the fallow ground wasn’t just a destination, but a journey. Every day, I watch the redemptive process in the land I once called fallow. Every day I wake up excited to see new flowers. Every day I hope to find more worms in the earth and butterflies in the air. Every day is a journey.

    ”Break up your fallow ground and do not sow among thorns.” Jeremiah 4:3

    The beauty of the Lord’s doing wasn’t intended for hardened hearts or thorny ground. I had to wait, during the process of restoration, to remove thorns and rocks that only choked out the good things to come.
    Happy Gardening, my friends. Even in the fallow ground, the Lord is ever present, doing a great and mighty work in the land.

  • The Superpower of Bulbs. Finding Faith by “Dodging Death by Dormancy”

    Here we are, sweating hot and grumbling in 105 degree summer heat, and the Crinum be like “Nope. Not havin’ it. I’m going back to sleep.”
    I want to have that superpower….the ability to simply remove myself from heated situations or troublesome times. I want to magically take myself out of a hot environment, cool off and simply wait for some rain to bloom beyond anything else in the garden. What an incredible superpower to have!

    Crinum are indeed a special bulb. Most of the hot summer, they sway back and forth between a green clump with a gorgeous lily, and a haggard-looking pile of death. Last summer, during the drought, the Crinum looked like they were all at death’s door, merely stubs of crispy brown remnants of foliage. Ah, but they weren’t dead at all. Not even close. The Crinum were just saving their strength and resting in the cool of their little sanctuary below the ground. Dodging death with an incredible ability to remove themselves from the heat and just wait for their perfect opportunity to re-emerge with a boom.

    There are many bulbs that sleep quietly and hide out underground during their dormant seasons. I find this attribute utterly fascinating. For instance, how does a bulb determine it’s specific season to grow and bloom? How does an Oxblood Lily or Spider Lily not get fooled by the summer rain, only to wait quietly and bloom like no other in the first downpour of the Fall? The mere fact that flower bulbs have unwavering fortitude to wait in the hard seasons, blooming beautifully when the rain comes is nothing short of the description of faith….the ability to believe in things that are not seen, hoping for things beyond their circumstances.

    Crinum are my summer reminders of faith. Crinum give me hope through the heated struggle of gardening in a Texas summer, when everything appears to die before my eyes. When times are tough, Crinum simply retreat to their quiet place….a sanctuary. They are restored, renewed and recharged. Crinum don’t fight their circumstances with yelling, screaming, debating or grumbling. Crinum simply find their quiet place, believing beyond the 105 degree weather that “this too shall pass.” The weather *will* cool off, the rain *will* come and the beautiful Crinum *will* share its bloom again….believing in things not yet seen, hoping for things beyond their circumstances. I need flower bulbs like Crinum to remind me where my true source of power is….not in myself, or a perfect environment, with perfect people in a perfect world. On the contrary, my superpower is my faith in Him, Who created it all….seasons of great beauty and seasons of wait. I rest in the quiet of the sanctuary of the Lord, fully knowing that He is the true power source of all…even the little Crinum.

    ”O God.

    You are my God;

    Early will I seek You;

    My soul thirsts for You;

    My flesh longs for You in a dry and thirsty land where there is no water.

    So I have looked for You in the sanctuary;

    To see Your power and Your glory.” -Psalms 63:1-2

    It is another hot summer afternoon. The garden is showing off it’s many shades of crispy brown foliage, but the Crinum are all in wait…..their season is coming. Remember, your Heirloom Bulbs aren’t dead….they are simply cooling off below the earth, dodging death by dormancy. 🙂

    Happy Gardening, my friends! Love, Keenan @heirloombulbgirl