Spring in Tennessee

I keep having this thing where I don't know what month it is. It's May or June? Because it's so warm out, and the trees have leafed out and my husband mowed the lawn last weekend. No? It's April. Right. This is the South. The dogwoods and azaleas are blooming. Right now. Spring by tax day!!

I'm so grateful. Honestly, that's what I feel when I step outside, and it's warm and sunny and things are blooming. Here's my garden, mid-April:

Done tilling

With straw down for the pathways. I joked that with the chicken wire and the clean, bright straw, it looks like a set of "Oklahoma!"

I'm done tilling. All 8 beds are ready for planting. The snow and sugar snap peas are coming up. Seedlings of broccoli, red cabbage, parsley, onions and some peppers are in. I laid the straw down on Sunday afternoon in anticipation of all the rain this week: saved me from the weeds and mud completely taking over. There will still be weeds, mind you, but doesn't it look presentable?

I freely admit that there are things I still miss about the Midwest. Rhubarb, for one. We had a booming plant in my parents' backyard. My mom is going to bring me a plant next week, but it'll be fingers crossed on if it survives here. It's not cut out for Southern climes. Lilacs, for another. I don't see them down here and it makes me sad. And ramps! I had a wonderful secret ramp patch in my parents' neighborhood. I've been keeping my eyes open on our walks by the woods and nothing. Nada. No ramps.

I'm sure the pain of missing these things will be lessened as I enjoy our beautiful Tennessee spring. And if I get tomatoes before July...that'll be the cherry (tomato) on top!

Tomato seedlings, under the grow light. There are 26. I'm probably going to put in 18 (2 squares worth).

Our Most Important Anniversary

Every year in early April, I have to reset the password on my nearly defunct Yahoo address in order to get in and search for a certain email. It's from the previous associate pastor at our church in Wisconsin. He emailed a few of the young adults who were attending WFBUMC at the time. With four different services, we were all missing each other and he wanted to start a fellowship group for us. He invited us to dinner at a local restaurant and I decided I would go. I hadn't been to church in a few weeks, and I remember my Mom chiding me, that I wasn't really committing to that church, why should I show up to dinner??

Why, indeed?

I met my husband on April 8th, 2011. I have no idea what my life might have looked like if I hadn't gone to that dinner. Perhaps I would have pursued passions like cooking and agriculture more intensely, but I would have missed out to the amazing journey of getting married, meeting our son and discerning my call to ministry. I"m not sure God would have called me to ministry without Brian by my side. He and I are so much better than we are apart.

A good friend came over for wine and cheese straws a few weeks ago, and she and I chatted upstairs while Brian worked down in the garage. A little while later, he bounded up the stairs, holding his hand, heading for the kitchen sink. He had a small accident in the shop, nothing more serious than a band-aid wouldn't fix, but there was a lot of blood and Brian felt a bit woozy. He decided to sit with us awhile, and I noticed his face was rather white, so I fixed him a plate of crackers and a tall glass of water, refilling it when I saw he was done. When he was feeling better, he went back down to clean up. Once had left, my friend turned to me and said "You're so glad for each other. You're so good to each other."

I don't like to brag, but it was a matter of fact statement. We are good to each other. We both spent enough time in relationships that were not good. We had experience being unkind relationship partners. We knew what emotional distance felt like. We knew what that low laying unhappiness felt like, how it creeps up on you and settles into your life. We knew we weren't going to do that again. So we are good to each other. On purpose. It takes effort beyond being well matched.

Four years later, I'm so grateful for Brian, for our family, for our extended families, for our relationship which we consistently put first.

The darkest week

This is the darkest week of the Christian year. Right? I mean, I didn't grow up observing Lent or Good Friday. But in my years with the Methodist church, I've learned that this Holy Week, is also the darkest week. Tonight many churches will come together to celebrate Maundy Thursday, the Last Supper. On Friday we'll observe "Good Friday," which is not very good at all, it's when our Lord and Savior chose to serve and save his people from the cross.We journey with Christ to the cross. Like Him, we know what's coming and that there's no way to get out of it.

And on Holy Saturday? A day of silence, a vigil? This year on Holy Saturday our extended family will bury a six year boy, a cousin of Caleb's, a beloved son, grandson, nephew, friend and leave us entombed behind a rock of a grief. This death has hit me the hardest of the three I've experienced this winter. It is the loss of a child, so early in his life. I truly believe in the celebration of a life well and fully lived, but 6? Those precious years seem too few and I'm heartbroken.

I don't know about Easter this year. Less than 24 hours after Holy Saturday? It's too soon. There is no resurrection, no light this year. I imagine the pastor crying out "He is Risen!" and a silent congregation staring back at him, half of them related to the small constituent they are suddenly missing. Who among us will have the strength to roll the stone away?

The Easter baskets, the egg hunts, the branded candy seem smaller and pettier than in years past (and I have opinions on commercialized Easter). Tonight we'll make our midnight trip over the mountains again, but instead of looking forward to the Risen Christ on Sunday, we are grieving with the rest of our family. I'm grateful Caleb is too little to comprehend what's happening.

I can't bring myself yet to God and ask Him to lighten my emotional burden. There's something that feels honest about sitting in the grief with the community who loves Luke. I do believe, as much of our family does, that Luke is sitting in the lap of his Maker, full of joy, happiness and light. That he is with family who have gone on before, who were ready for him with open arms. It is a small comfort. In the meantime, we here in this life will sit with our silence, with our prayers, with our tears, and our mourning.

And yet - there's an answer to the question "Who has the strength to roll the stone away?" It's God of course, Love. And when we're ready, ready to ask God for light, rejoicing, hope and faith, may we remember that Easter is not just one day, but everyday. May we remember that we are the men and women whom God has made, and each of us, including the ones sitting in the arms of Love, are crowned with light that cannot fade. 

Let us sing of Easter gladness
That rejoices every day,
Sing of hope and faith uplifted;
Love has rolled the stone away.
Lo, the promise and fulfillment,
Lo, the man whom God hath made,
Seen in glory of an Easter
Crowned with light that cannot fade.
-The Christian Science Hymnal, words by Francis Thomas Hill

The Work of a Weekend*

Garden on Friday:

Garden on Sunday evening:

It might not look like much to you, but it's serious progress for me. I don't know what that garden bed was last used, but the soil was pretty good, not too compacted. A little clay-y, but brimming with worms. This is the lower bed, at the bottom of our drive. I'm a little worried about the amount of sun it'll get, so I'm putting more cool weather crops down here. It will have 8 3x3 squares. Each square was hand tilled: I turned the soil over with a pitchfork, then sat with my small hand tiller to pull out old roots and weeds until it was completely loose. Then each patch received some top soil and some compost. I'm ready to plant! Peas and beans and some of my seedlings should go in this week, although I'm watching the end of the week forecast- it's looking we might get below freezing.

*Clarification: The work of two naptimes. If we didn't have a toddler to care for, play with and feed, this would be done.