Watching the Flowers

Those who know me know this:  I'm not much of a gardener.  I've dabbled in herbs, and while in South Dakota I successfully harvested carrots and rhubarb for a couple of years (although I couldn't take much credit for the rhubarb).  I planted a few peas one year, got excited and planted about three times as many peas the next year.  The rabbits ate them all.

I will confess, I feel particularly inept at planting or growing flowers.  The only flowers we have had here are the hostas and the overgrown peony bushes; both were here when we got here.   I planted a few annuals one summer on the south side of the house, but they didn't do well.

So last year I sent out a cry for help:  a friend of ours is a landscaper by trade, and he dug up the overgrown peonies, and put in a few perennial bushes on the south side of the house, which had been mostly weeds, and he added a few flowers and bushes to the front of the house, where there had been mostly yews, with one mock orange bush.  There have been a few bumps in the road, what with last year's oversupply of rabbits (who ate a couple of our young bushes) and this year's terribly late and mostly non-existent spring.

But slowly, slowly, things are happening in the garden.

For one thing, a few of the peony bushes are back.  They aren't so welcome, but we're going to keep them, at least for the spring.   There aren't so many flowers in the front yet, but things are coming up, a little bit every day.  There are two bushes that just look slightly greener every day.  You have to really keep your eyes peeled to notice the difference.  It started with just seeing a little bit of green at the core, where all of the branches were dead.  But little by little, the stems are turning green, and the leaves are starting to appear.

Then there are the Bleeding-hearts, two bushes with dozens of flowers.  They are first fruits of those who will bloom.

You know how Emily Dickinson said, "Hope is the thing with feathers"?  Right now I think hope is the thing with flowers.

It's humbling, because, unlike most gardeners, I didn't plant these flowers and bushes.  I don't even know what most of them are called.  (I'm hoping that this will be an occasion for self-education, though.)  I am, at least right now, simply watching, watching the flowers, first the Bleeding-hearts, and who knows what will be next?  First the Bleeding-hearts, then the others that I need to tend, and study, and learn the names.

It's faith seeking understanding in the garden.  Faith that was planted, but not by me.  But now, I want to learn.  I want to learn the names.  I want to know what they are.

"We Wish to See Jesus"

It wouldn't be a problem, if it weren't for the early spring around here.  I mean, I know that spring has, literally, sprung.  Spring was March 20.  But here in Minnesota, March 20 is usually just a day, a day when we are often still covered with snow, and expecting more.  But most of last week, the week before spring, the weather around here was up in the 70s.  And I've been noticing that, much earlier than usual, there have been buds on even leaves on some of the bushes and trees.  There is a magnolia outside our church that is blooming, at least a month early.

Except in our yard, it's not happening.  We had some new work in our yard last fall, which was really exciting.  We got some new, beautiful bushes, which we watered carefully every day for what seemed like a long time until we were given permission to stop.  They're all dead now.  At least they look dead.  I've been watching them, over the last week or so, worried about whether or not they were going to come back. As I said, I don't think it would be a problem, if it were not for the early spring around here.  I wouldn't be watching already.  But now I'm worried, so I sent an email to our landscaper asking him about our new plants.  Of course, he told me not to worry.  He said that everything would be all right.  Everything comes up at its own rate.  I emailed him back.  Are you sure? I asked.  They look dead to me.  He emailed me back again.  They only look dead.  I felt like he was saying, "trust me."  But I want to see those new buds, however tiny.  I want to see that new growth appear. 

"Sir, we wish to see Jesus."  It was nearing the Passover, and some Greeks came up to Philip and said these words.  I don't know who these Greeks were.  They may have been Jewish people who lived in the Greek-speaking world; they may have been Greek converts to Judaism.  But whoever they were, they were curious.  They wanted to meet Jesus.  I can only imagine that they had heard stories about him -- stories perhaps about how he fed thousands, or healed a blind man or, most recently, raised a man named Lazarus from the dead.  They had heard the buzz, and they wanted to see for themselves.  And I can't say that I blame them.  Staring every day at the dead branches in the bushes of my house, I want to see life. 

So what does Jesus say?  He tells them, "Unless a seeds falls to earth and dies, it remains alone.  But if it dies, it bears much fruit."  He points to the earth where the seed has disappeared, and says, "trust me."

To be continued....

Detours

Today I walked into my noon Bible study and there was animated buzzing conversation all around. I eagerly jumped in, until I realized we had forgotten something. "Wait! Let's pray!" I interrupted. We stopped long enough to say grace, and then went back to our lunches and our conversation.

What was the passionate topic we were discussing? Detours.

They say, of course, that there are only two seasons in Minnesota: winter and road construction. This reality has become more evident than usual for us this spring, as major highway construction is going on in our neighborhood's back yard.

All of the freeway entrances near our home have been closed for the last month, and will be all summer. Last weekend, the major highway through our city was closed, from my neighborhood downtown.

And starting this weekend, two more bridges were demolished, and part of the street that runs in front of our church was closed, the part that goes over the freeway. Our children's ministry coordinator described the scene on Monday evening: cars coming down the street, seeing the roadblock, and turning around abruptly to go back in the opposite direction -- during rush hour.

Tuesday evening I took my usual back roads home. They are not closed. However, as I approached my intersection, I saw two blocks of cars, waiting to get on the same road.

Everybody's looking for a different way home right now. The shortest route is no longer an option.

We need these road repairs. They are long overdue. But it is bitter medicine to take. And it means that we will have to take detours for awhile, we will have to slow down, we will be inconvenienced. For people in a hurry, with never enough time, with a sense of urgency, this is a difficult lesson to learn. Maybe we won't learn it, anyway.

We need more than road repairs. We need humanity repairs. Sometimes a detour, which seems like a waste of time, is part of the process of repairing our lives. And God -- the God who walked this earth with us -- walks with us in the detours, maybe even more than in those straight line, goal-oriented trips we take.

Seeking: Opinions of Dog People

It's spring, spring, spring, even though it SNOWED last night. So it's muddy muddy muddy as well. And, all the little critters are back, too.

To celebrate spring and the absence of huge snow drifts, husband fixed the porch fence so that Scout can run out the back door directly into the yard: but not the street.

But the puppy has been taxing our patience this morning. She discovered a chipmunk or a gopher in one of our gutter spouts when we let her out this morning, and she would not come back in. She HAD to get that animal out of the gutter. Husband moved the gutter spout, but she was then interested in every other gutter spout: there HAS to be an animal in there somewhere.

When I got home from church for lunch, Husband said we had gone on to the Next Level: the small animal had finally vacated the gutter spout, and Scout caught her. I look out the back door, and there she was, tossing it up in the air like a squeaky toy, running around with it in her mouth.

She would not come in.

She would come up near the door, and then, when we opened it, she would run back the other way, toward her catch. Then she would move the animal to another area in the yard.

Finally, I went out to the yard, and called her. I was surprised when she came right to me, and sat in front of me. She let me take her collar and bring her in. (And I wiped off her Extremely Muddy Paws.) I guess those obedience sessions paid off some.

The thing is: the Animal is still out there. If I had time, I'd let her out again, and have her practice coming to me, and letting her go back to the Animal. We could also just go out and find it and just get rid of it. But that might make her more possessive the next time she catches one. Or, we could.... is there another option???

What would you do?

P.S. Disclaimer: the picture is not our yard.

It's Raining....

...and it's a good thing. You know, April showers, and all that. I can think of very few negatives regarding rain at this time of year. Oh, here's one: after Scout goes out for a walk, she smells like a wet dog.

We had a baptism this morning at church. You know, April showers and all that. Beautiful saris were worn by Indian relatives of the baby, decorating the church like spring foliage. There were at least three other babies in church this morning, including, Ami, the baby named for an eagle. I want more of this, I thought. I want a church that looks and sounds like God's kingdom, different accents and colors and voices lifting up.

The couple next door are still waiting for their baby. The doctor keeps saying any day now. April showers and all that. I am so excited. We're planning to send over some fried chicken for supper, because she is on bed rest and can't cook.

The senior pastor was giving away copies of a book of sermons he had published many years ago, at his last congregation. It's called Rituals of Redemption, based on a sermon series he wrote on liturgy. Anyone want a copy? I'll send you one. April showers, and all that.

Perhaps I should contact his publisher. I think this particular publisher you have to put up some of your own money, but it might be worth it to have something out there, with my name on it. Then someday maybe I'll be able to send you a copy of my book too (I keep saying that). But the April showers and all that have made me hopeful.

What's So Good About April 1

• We are now entering my birthday month (woo-hoo!)
• I got to meet Pastor Eric today (he's really nice).
• I bought and ate a Bartlet pear (it was delicious).
• The snow started melting already.
• In March, they only say it's spring. In April, it really is spring.

What's so good about April 1 for you?

I'm Dreaming of a White Easter

It's been snowing this morning, and snowing all day yesterday too. Somehow, it doesn't feel right; doesn't feel like Easter. Where's my Easter bonnet and my new spring outfit?

In my heart of hearts I know this is wrong; Easter isn't about flowers and birds and buds on the trees and the inevitable but long-awaited coming of Spring. (lovely as that is) Easter is about the resurrection of the dead, about graves being opened, about freedom where there was slavery, about reconciliation where there was only estrangement, about life where there was death and decay.

It's not the dormancy of winter, something that only seemed dead. It's about something entirely natural being reversed by the power of the love of God.

Can these bones live?

O Lord, you know.