Month: April 2021

I’m pensive by nature and if anything I have become more so during the past year. In my solitude I have read and thought about the history of humankind. I have seen the mistakes that people have made and marveled at the glorious achievements of our minds and our goodness. Spring is one of my favorite times of year with the glory of nature bursting forth to remind us that even after the harshest of times new life promises brighter futures. Easter is the ultimate triumph over our earthly natures and the inevitability of death. The life, death and resurrection of Jesus promises us an eternity of peace. 

I think of my grandmother, Minnie Bell, in the spring time. She was a child of God and of nature. She had a knack with people, animals and plants. It was said that she could stick a dead twig in the ground and it would burst forth in splendid blooms under her tender care. Her yard was a show stopper and particularly so at Easter when her lilies caused many a passerby to stop to gaze in amazement at the blooms. Birds and butterflies came to visit in profusion as well and I enjoyed nothing more than walking through her little paradise while she sweetly explained the stories of each lovely plant as though they were her friends. 

It has been a tough year for everyone. Last Easter most of the world was shut down. Streets were empty. Stores and restaurants were shuttered. My husband and I spent Easter Day alone for the first time since we were married fifty two years ago. It was a quiet day on which we went to church from home and listened to Andrea Boccelli sing from the deserted streets of Rome. We had little idea what would happen to those we loved and we felt a sadness that we had never before associated with Easter. 

I remember thinking of my grandmother on that day and wondered if the death of her husband and four year old son in 1918 might have been from the pandemic of that year. She died before I had learned of the Spanish flu and its devastation on the world and neither she nor my grandfather ever spoke of it. Suddenly it seemed that she may have been gravely touched by that horrific virus and yet she somehow survived and rebuilt a life with my grandfather. 

I never thought that we would still be battling COVID19 a year later even as doctors and scientists warned that it was not going away any time soon. Life became a routine inside my home and the confines of my yard. I contemplated my place in this vast universe and drew on the courage that I knew my grandmother had always possessed during her never easy lifetime. The craziness of the situation only grew as the months went by but I thought of how in my grandmother’s time there had been a war in addition to the pandemic. I remembered how the new hope of the nineteen twenties was followed by a devastating depression and then yet another war. My grandmother never mentioned nor complained of such things. She just puttered in her yard, cooked her delicious meals and loved her family with a contentedness and happiness that was so calming. 

My yard had been quite beautiful all through the summer and fall and winter until suddenly there was an unusual freeze for our planting zone. When the temperature dropped back down to a more normal range I was stunned by the damage to my once glorious plants. I saw that many of them were most assuredly dead and others needed tender loving care. With thoughts of my grandmother I donned my rubber boots and grubby clothing and worked for days on end to reclaim the splendor that was once the highlight of my domain. Weeks went by so quickly as I dug and pruned and planted. Now it is Easter time again and I have been thinking about my grandmother, the angel who always seems to be with me. 

This week my yard is showing signs that it will rise once again to the loveliness that once defined it. Roses are blooming in a profusion of many colors. The azaleas are displaying their deep purple and scarlet flowers. The amaryllis bulbs are sending glorious shoots of red and white and pink into the air. The hollies are hosting bees and the ferns are peeking from under the soil that we have enriched with mulch. Caladiums and lilies have overcome the attempts of the cold to destroy them. We have selected strong plants to replace those that were not suited to survive the cold. They are small now but I know that will grow and one day fill out the areas  with magnificence. 

I feel hopeful this Easter. I am ignoring the naysayers and focusing on those who are good and loving and kind just as Jesus was so long ago. His message was really quite simple and one that my grandmother followed to the letter. All he asked of us is to love and so many among us have done just that during our horrific year. They have sacrificed time and talents and even income. They have shown us that we humans still have more good tracing through our veins than bad. I see now that my grandmother’s secret to survival was to always look for the beauty in people and in the world. She created joy in everything she did by not allowing the weeds of our natures to overtake what is best about us. 

In this holiest of weeks in the yearly calendar I am feeling hopeful and also understanding that I must be as patient with people and the virus that plagues us as I am with my garden. My grandmother taught me that. Everything and everyone needs time and care and nourishment to bloom. There is no paradise on earth but we can come close if love guides us past our sometimes selfish natures. My grandmother shared the vision of her garden and the flowers and plants and vegetables that grew in it. She kept only the bare minimum that she needed and gave away the rest. In her folksy wisdom she understood the secret to life and uncomplicated the complexities that we all face. Love one another and we will be fine. Plant that love wherever you go.

Matthew 25:40-45

40 “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’

41 “Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. 42 For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, 43 I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.’

44 “They also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?’

45 “He will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.’

There was an Easter time when I was busily preparing for the annual family celebration that I hosted for many years. I was buzzing around town like a crazed bee thinking more about the list of things I had to do before Sunday than the meaning of Holy Week. I had just visited the Airline farmers’ market to procure fresh fruit and vegetables for the dishes I planned to prepare. I had found lovely flowers to decorate the tables and then use as party favors for the guests. I was filled with great joy but also anxiety that the clock was ticking and I would not get everything done. I had many more errands to complete and lots of cooking and cleaning to do before members of my family would crowd into my home. The last thing I needed was any kind of delay. 

Then it happened. An elderly man in a wheelchair was making a scene in the middle of the road bringing traffic to a standstill. He was either intoxicated, drugged or mentally ill or all of the above as he yelled obscenities and cried out for help. Those of us in our cars waited impatiently for his fit to subside. Some swore at him demanding that he get out of the road. Others uncomfortably looked away. I simply felt sorry for myself for choosing that route in a moment when I needed to keep checking off the completion of my tasks with great speed. 

Suddenly a woman emerged from her car. She was rather rough looking to say the least. Her hair looked like a bird’s nest and a cigarette hung loosely from her lips as though she was not willing to set it aside for even a short time. She wore no shoes and her feet were dirty. An array  of tattoos ran up and down her arms and legs. Her tank top was so tight that her breasts threatened to spill from the cover of the cloth. She turned to those of us in our cars with a look of disgust on her face as she motioned with her hands for all of us to wait for just a moment while she took charge. 

She walked over to the man who was still raging away. She bent down and embraced him so lovingly that it almost seemed as though she knew him. He immediately became quiet as she smoothed the hair out of his face and handed him a bottle of water that she had carried in the back pocket of her shorts. She stood in the middle of the road taking the time to fully calm the man before she moved his wheelchair back to the esplanade. She called out to the rest of us to wait for her to complete her mission and somehow we all obeyed in utter amazement. After getting the man to safety she went back and forth to her car brining him a bag of fruit, more water, and other items that must have been rattling around in her back seat. Then she reached for her wallet, counted out the bills that were inside, and gave everyone of them to him. Before leaving she hugged him once again and kissed him on his forehead. Then she turned to her stunned witnesses and extended her middle finger into the air. 

I drove off feeling moved and shamed. I had been angry at the unfortunate man only moments before. I had seen him as a nuisance and the woman had reminded me that he was a child of God no different from any of us sitting in our cars. There was no telling how or why his life had somehow gone awry but it was not for us to judge, only to respond. I thought of how Jesus would no doubt have helped this man just as this woman had done and I understood his teachings just a bit better in that moment.

The lady who had modeled the epitome of Christian behavior was not a woman of means. Her car was old and in need of repair and yet she had emptied her wallet and her heart for this stranger. She had shown the kind of compassion that Jesus admonished us all to demonstrate. I had been more concerned with preparing for a celebration of Easter in a very superficial way while she had shown us all what the life of Jesus had been all about.

We all too often forget the message that we were supposed to hear from the life of Christ. Over and over again he modeled a life of kindness, understanding, generosity. He was not worried about laws and rules but about the comfort of the very least among us. On this Holy Thursday we remember his last supper with his apostles When he predicted his own demise and asked that they teach the entire world how to live. There are many among us who are hungry, without clothes, sick, in prison. Just going to church and praying is meaningless if we ignore the cries of the suffering that are all around us. Perhaps now is the time to really follow Jesus and be like that woman who took the time to show a sick and confused man that someone cared. Let us see the poor, the sick, the suffering, the migrants and the prisoners in a different way. Let us solve our problems with love.