Three weeks have passed since I last posted. Three weeks of cold rains preventing my working outdoors. Three weeks of darkness as I wait for the reawakening of not only my garden but my optimism as well. Three weeks of an unusually challenging Lent as I anticipated the Resurrection of Easter.
I am surprised at how, in my region, the lateness of my gardens paralleled the lateness of this Easter. It is the end of April when a riot of spring color should be apparent, but not much else is showing but daffodils and Forsythia. Mother’s Day, which is in less than two weeks, has always been heralded by Lilacs in full bloom. If it warms up in the next ten days the Lilacs may leaf out, and if lucky a couple of flowering buds may open.
I too feel a lateness or maybe a lowness in my heart. I know deep inside me there is a season of spring waiting to arise. It is growing yet hidden in darkness like the seeds in my garden. Those seeds need darkness to germinate, they also need rain. This year there seems to be an abundance of both.
 |
| Alexander Calder 'Germination' |
I am challenged to keep the faith. We all face times of aridity (well, maybe this year it’s the Flood!). I am called to patience, to wait and see what will grow from the new seeds planted inside me. I am called to trust in the hidden process of germination.
