by jphilo | Apr 10, 2009 | Daily Life
Compared to the suffering of Christ on the first Good Friday, my personal sadness this day seems small and insignificant. I should be joyful, not melancholy, with the completion of Mom’s house sale this afternoon.
But when I walked this morning and thought about the decline in my mother’s health from Alzheimer’s, I was sad. She has always been an independent woman, determined, highly intelligent and resourceful. She deserved many more years in her house, I thought, more rewards for the sacrifices she made for Dad, my siblings, and me. The finality of the house sale made her illness real, immediate, depressing.
Though the day was sunny and hinted at spring, I grew gloomier and gloomier. But a spot of color close to the ground caught my eye when I passed my neigbor’s yard. The crocuses, encouraged by the sun and undaunted by the melting snow, bloomed cheerfully. Nearby, red peony shoots reached boldly toward the promise of spring and laughed at April’s chilly fingers.
The plants know the sun waits above the cold, black ground. I know the empty tomb waits in the shadow of the cross. Can I believe that goodness waits beyond Mom’s declining health?
The breeze touched the crocus blossoms. “Yes,” they nodded and whispered in the wind. “You can.”
by jphilo | Mar 10, 2009 | Daily Life
Yesterday’s blog listed the top ten differences between southern California and the Midwest. Today’s list provides unwelcome proof that March in Iowa, in strong competition with November, is the state’s least favorable month.
10. As soon as the sun starts rising at an optimistic time, Daylight Savings Time begins
and pushes dawn back an hour.
9. It has rained for five days straight. SInce today is March 10, it has rained for half the
month.
8. When the rain becomes unbearable, the snow begins.
7. The gravel road and our driveway look like something the cat drug in.
6. The mice in our garage, cowed by winter’s cold and relatively inactive, have perked up
and invaded my car again. As always, they leave Hiram’s pick up alone.
5. Our daughter is “getting away” for spring break. Apparently, even Minneapolis is more
glamorous in March than is our fair state.
4. Morning walks are gloomy. (See above picture.)
3. Hiram blanches at the mention of “FAFSA.”
2. Pretty pastel Easter decorations perpetrate the cruel hoax that spring is just around the
corner.
1. Our one warm March day pushed the daffodils above ground, but they’ve been
shivering so much since the cold return, they won’t contemplate exposing themselves
further.
There, I’ve expressed my hostility told March and feel much better. In the 21 days until April begins, I’ll keep my umbrella handy, stock up on mouse traps, and knit gloves for the daffodils. I’m sure they’ll appreciate the effort.
by jphilo | Mar 25, 2008 | Current Events
Our son, the monk, called on the Saturday before Easter. (That’s not him in the picture, but one of the other monks at the Hermitage.) I asked Allen when they would celebrate Easter, or as the Orthodox call it, Pascha. April twenty-seventh, he told me. And then there was a pause. “I wish you could be here and see how we do it. I tell you, Mom, you Protestants are missing out, not paying attention to Lent and Holy Week.”
He’s probably right. We descendants of northern European Protestants approach Easter in the buttoned up traditions of our ancestors. No need to get carried away, don’t ya know? Somebody might be watchin’ you go a little crazy about God bein’ raised from the dead, and then where would ya be?
On the other hand, the northern European buttoned up blood was pretty thin by the time it got to our son. He’s always been, to put it mildly, a flamboyant dresser. In fourth grade, he had me make him a tunic and robe for Halloween. He was King David, a perennial costume favorite for ten-year-old, Christian white boys in Iowa. When he left for the monastery his assurance to his grandmother was, “I’ll wear a robe every day, Grandma. You know how much I like to dress up.” So I’m not surprised that our son loves the pageantry and processions, the robes and the rhinestones that are part of the faith tradition he has chosen.
Still, I’ve been thinking about what he said. We Protestants don’t pay much attention to Lent and Holy Week. Perhaps that’s why our holiday is more about the Easter bunny than the celebration of the empty tomb. I’ll be mulling that over a while. And if I think it’s true, I may volunteer to spearhead Lenten and Holy Week observances at our church next year.
If you go to my church and you’re reading this, don’t start hyperventilating yet. I’ll try not to get too crazy, don’t ya know? Though come to think of it, the King David costume is in a box in the attic somewhere. Let me know if you’re interested.
by jphilo | Mar 24, 2008 | Daily Life
We had another dusting of snow the night before Easter. And the day itself was cold, overcast and gray. After church we drove to my brother and sister-in-law’s house, for the afternoon. Our gathering was much brighter than the weather, full of fun and food and laughter.
In the evening when I was home again, a flurry of movement outside the living room window caught my eye. A flock of robins, forty or fifty at least, carpeted our east lawn and part of our neighbor’s. I watched the birds for a few minutes, heartened by this sure sign that no matter how chilly the weather gets, spring is on its way.
A look out the same window this morning revealed a lawn carpeted with frost, sharp and glittering and cruel. For a moment I lost hope, sure that winter would never lose its grip on my corner of the world, convinced that spring would never arrive. But peace returned as I thought about yesterday’s flock of birds. The robins are back. Spring is almost here. Don’t give up.
It’s enough to keep me going today.
