The Next 60 Seconds I Spend in the Garden

The Next 60 Seconds I Spend in the Garden

Jasmine Tosseth-Smith
From the Editor's Desk

I am the clay in The Potter's hands.

My heart is the garden The Farmer cultivates.

My life is the canvas, the Master Artist paints on.

My calling requires I be refined by The Refiner's Fire.

But it's much easier to type it out, than to live it out. Over the last few months, I have been going through some painful pruning. While I am grateful for the refining fire, it has gotten hot up in here. I needed to let go of the brush and hand it back to The Master Artist and let The Farmer weed and till the soil of my heart.

Many times over the past few months I have come broken to the cross saying, "God, please give me enough for the next 60 seconds. Lord, help me navigate this wave of emotions for the next 60 seconds.”

Embracing the Cocoon

Embracing the Cocoon

Jasmine Tosseth-Smith
From the Editor's Desk

Embrace the Coccon.

When you think of a cocoon you think of the silky outer layer that caterpillars form around themselves to protect themselves as they grow into full grown, beautiful butterflies inside. The cocoon keeps them protected as they grow.

For many of us a cocoon represents self-protection. A place, a space or an attitude of “I need to get away and protect myself”

🤔 How many of you are like me and have created the woman you are to cocoon the hurting child within?

🤔 How many of you, like me, have spun layers and layers of protection around your heart and your soul?

🤔 How many of you, have done what I did and have spent years building the cocoon, but have neglected the REAL work of the cocoon - to protect the growth happening on the inside?

From the Editor: Personal Upheaval, a Pandemic and #BLM

From the Editor: Personal Upheaval, a Pandemic and #BLM

Jasmine Tosseth-Smith
From the Editor's Desk

From the Editor: Personal Upheaval, a Pandemic and #BLM

2020 is NOT living up to the hype I ascribed it in 2019. My life as I knew it imploded in-front of my eyes and the dreams, hopes and future I had planned had burned to the ground; leaving in its wake two traumatized little boys and a Mama grappling to rise from the ashes. All of this amid the Covid-19 Epidemic in which all 3 of us caught the virus although my youngest had the most severe symptoms. None of us needed hospitalization (Praise God!!), but I’ll admit there was a tense 48-hour period where I watched my 7-year-old like a hawk. Now… the George Floyd and Breonna Taylor incident. As a black woman and the mother of 2 black sons, when I heard George Floyd call for his mother, it reverberated in my heart as though one of my own boys was calling out to me.

Photo credit: WithUInMind Photography