Tag Archives: Uninvited guest

Garden Party

Every year, my husband and I repeat: “We’re too busy. We’re too old.”

Still, we give our annual garden party.

Unlike the scenario in Ricky Nelson’s song, “Garden Party,” neither Mary Lou, Yoko Ono, nor her walrus show up. Just lots of uninvited guests.

Given our sophisticated attire, you’d think nobody would dare approach our garden without an engraved invitation. I wear an orange T-shirt accidentally bleached with the underwear wash load. Hubby sports his free T-shirt from our 1971 prom, plus trendy ripped jeans. Roomy 20-year-old shorts show off my black-knee look, enhanced by matching black nails. Emitting an elegant fragrance called “Compost,” Hubby and I have dressed in our casual best.

Unfortunately, thistles, with their prickly personalities, crash the party. I’ve nicknamed them “Klingon sticker weeds.” Like the legendary “Star Trek” foes, they aspire to conquer the universe, beginning with our garden.

Grass, which avoids our yard’s bald spots, flourishes alongside its evil ally. Morning glories that rebel against trellises swarm the cucumber patch.

For other boorish invaders, we’re not only their hosts. We’re their refreshments.

Millions of mosquitoes and chiggers view us as a free Golden Corral.

Still, Hubby and I stick to the program, playing garden games cherished for generations:

Lose the Trowel – Did I leave it among the tomato plants? On the freezer? Or (on bad-memory days) in the freezer?

Find the Rake – Gratifying for the spouse who lost it. Not for the unconscious spouse who stepped on it.

Twister – Hubby and I possess twin gallon bottles of Ibuprofen to document our prowess.

Only God, the perfect Host, has given the flawless garden party that might have lasted forever.

Hmm … wasn’t it another pair of humans who spoiled it?

Your Extraordinary Ordinary: What makes a great garden party?

Uninvited

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“We are all of us from birth to death guests at a table we did not spread.”
—Rebecca H. Davis

Has an uninvited guest ever brought suitcases to your house? Plus, a hostile pet named Lovey?

When I was growing up in a pastor’s home, uninvited guests were the norm. Many brought suitcases and — if not Loveys — equally mean kids.

A penniless evangelist, his wife and five children spent several weeks. Again, my siblings and I slept on the floor. I worked overnight at Denny’s. Once, during a rare nap, a kid poised a pipe at my window and bellowed like a mastodon.

Another incident involved a lady preacher named Bunny who often stayed with us. One night, Dad, who also worked construction, arrived home after everyone had retired. He climbed into bed beside Mom.

One thought, though, struck like lightning. Hadn’t Mom said Bunny was staying overnight?

His pastor’s heart stopped. Dad yanked covers from the huddled heap beside him.

Mom glared. “Bunny’s coming Friday, not tonight!”

I could hardly wait until college, where I’d take control of my life.

One weekend, an unknown force roused me from sleep, swinging me in circles. Surely, a nightmare. …

No. The girl — half my size! — swinging me was real. So was my roommate, giggling up and down the scale.

I gasped to the stranger, “Who are you?”

“I’m Vicky!”

“Vicky, please put me down.”

She deposited me on my bed, singing, “O Lord, Won’t You Buy Me a Color TV?”

Other giggling, melodious strangers gathered. I took refuge in another party pooper’s room. Unfortunately, my discussion with my roommate afterward was not the last.

So … uninvited-weird-people incidents were not confined to parsonages.

That lesson has been confirmed again and again. Unlike our late parents, though, my siblings and I have placed gated fences around our lives.

Though uninvited, I couldn’t help welcoming these petunias that popped up between cracks on my patio.

Recently, I reflected on hospitality as I watered uninvited cosmos, seeded from last year’s planting. Volunteer zinnias inundate marigold borders. I never planted those petunias, yet they invade our premises, looking wild … and wonderful.

How did Mom and Dad’s uninvited guests ultimately respond to kindness? Perhaps some, like disruptive flowers, are blooming in the place God — not people — prepared for them.

Most humans need fences to ensure safety and well-being.

But maybe I’ll leave my gate open more often.

Your Extraordinary Ordinary: How do you react to the uninvited?

OMG, It’s Monday! Prayer: What Are You Doing Here?

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O Lord, Your flowers are a mystery. I pamper them — they die. I’ve never, ever planted white petunias — yet they pop up and bloom. In October. On my porch, without a pot! OMG, teach me to welcome beauty into my life, even when it wasn’t invited.