Reflections on Siberian Squill

Flowers. My first sighting this year. Popping up out of the grass with their blue petals and pale yellow, almost white, centers. The Bee and I are enjoying Sunday School under the cherry tree. The clouds are getting heavier, but the warmth persists. The second day I've been able to wear my chacos.
"The world has been put right," shouts my soul. But part of my recognizes that it is passion week.
Palm Sunday is filled with triumph. "Salvation has come at last," we think. "Hosanna! Save us now!"
But we anticipate too quickly. There is a week of pain, of betrayal, of misunderstandings and misinterpreted prophesies to come. There is heart break and despair. We must walk the valley of the shadow of death to find salvation.

 (Salvation, that is something more complete than we could ever imagine. A victory so creative, so divine, that we can attempt to understand it only in retrospect. A resurrection when we only expected a renewal. For resurrection you need death. For inspiration, despair. Is that the truth of it all? or is that only the truth as a 4 would see it?)

I know the cold is coming back this week. I know it might yet snow again. But today I am thankful for Barbara Kingsolver, Doris Jazen Longacre, Anne Dillard. Prophets that have called me to pay attention to today, to attend to the present, to be with the siberian squill, to allow the hope of palm Sunday to permeate my soul, and to let myself digest this moment before rushing on to the next.

Spring in Rochester?

The winter here has been long and dreary, but today it looks like a few daring trees are starting to put forth buds. I was picking up some of the litter from our front yard this afternoon and even found some green buds growing in the pile of branches that have been sitting in the corner of the yard since our clean up day last fall. This mornings service focused on the stories if Lazarus and the dry bones of Ezekiel. 

Seeing what I had taken to be dead branches sprout new growth resonates with my soul. I dug my fingers into the dirt. Cut budding branches from a tree and pulled some budding ones from the pile on the lawn. Filled vases with rocks and water. And placed my "easter trees" around the apartment. 

I too have felt a lightening of my spirit as the day light increases and the weather warms. New life flowing through my body and spirit again, just as the trees show signs of the life they are about to burst into. I am trying to pay attention to the transformation taking place around and within me. Watching spring spring forth as it were. Living into the narrative of resurrection as it is revealed each day.