Today as I was driving home I saw the haze of the red buds in the maple trees. The way they dappled the treetops, yearning to burst forth with new life. The tender shoots of green grass, the onion sets at the feed store. All herald the wonderful event of Spring.
I reflect the most in this season I think. Mostly because I see a reflection of all life in the seasons. Fall as a time of death to the last year of growth, Winter a time of testing of what you learned and a rest from productivity (unless of course you took on a new farm, lol). Spring a time of rebirth and renewal. And summer the time of fast growth and fun.
This winter has been one of the hardest I have had in many years. In our old land, we were finally fixed. We knew the cycles, the people, the places. We understood most of what was to come, with a few variations thrown in. It was comfortable and stable, like the seasons. But this year was a time of great change, a great shaking, if you will. We have been shaken to the very foundations of our thinking, of our beliefs and into our "roots". This is a Land, a State, a Home we have never known before. And yet just like the Phoenix, we will rise from the ashes. The bible says "whatever can be shaken will be shaken, and whatever remains will be the truth. Well, here we are, like the trees;stripped bare. Like the field; open and fallow, awaiting seed time. Like the river; flowing with the plenty and the lack, always going, bending never breaking.
We have had so many trials, and tests. So many new things planted within us. It feels like my first garden when I was a child. My grandmother made a wheel with bricks in which she created 12 spokes. She then handed me a bunch of seeds and told me it was mine to plant. Of course being the "artist" I am, I proceeded to sow things in a swirling, colorful way. I lost track of what was what and just enjoyed the canvas. Of course I panicked afterwards, as I always do, and wished I had written something down, or taken note of size or type. I had never planted anything before, how was I to know what was coming up? Well, my grandmother, with her experience and wisdom, hugged me and assured me she would know when the time came. As the season of summer went by, the seeds did sprout. I watered them and yet didn't know if I was watering a weed or an herb. I watched and waited. As they got their first few leaves, I willed them to tell me what they were. My Grandmother watched with me patiently overseeing the progress, and yet not giving up the truth of the plant's identities. Finally they started to turn into something, I watched astonished, as the they actually took shape into something I could identify. It was like magic! The artwork was there, I could see it in reds and yellow, purple and green. There were herbs and lettuce, carrots and radish! How amazing that our lives reflect this growth, this artistry. We have no idea what we have planted within us, and yet by the time the summer of our lives unfolds, we can see the careful feeding of our savior, the perfect gardener. He doesn't do it like me, he knows exactly what he wants to grow. He just lets me sow some things artistically, because he knows, like my grandmother, that it won't hurt to let us play and discover. How I long for the season of spring!
But while I wait, I will continue to tend the soil, making it able to receive the seed, Both in my garden and in my life. Before I know it, Easter will be here and with it will come the Resurrection and rebirth. I will enjoy the soft warm breeze, the cool green grass, and all the new babies that are due to come with the warming of the earth. The next generation will be born.
