a bit of lenten resurrection

yesterday we stepped in the garden for the first time this year.  after bitter, freezing temperatures kicked off the week, it was surprising to find the weather mild and inviting and green shoots pushing through the soil.  we worked without coats.  the majority of our efforts involved un-fun of gardening - weeding, removing leaves, trimming last year's dead growth, and poor geoff fixing a broken gutter from the ice storm.  but in the mundane tasks, i was converted all over again.

last december, racing against time, i put some potato onions in the garden (thanks to my generous neighbor and friend, rona).  it was a cold, dismal day and the ground was muddy - very unpromising circumstances.  this type of onion is just wonderful because it produces more like shallots, clusters of onions, that can be divided up for some to be eaten and the rest replanted for next year.  a solidly sustainable crop.  yesterday, as i scrounged around to remove a most-resented, ubiquitous weed that got away from me last summer, i found the green tips of these unexpected characters coming  up through soil and mulch.

 

three years ago, during the same lenten stretch, my faith had left me and the garden was the only place of refuge where the gentle grace and love of god would emerge and undo me.  at that time, i remember the same sense of wonder and spontaneous joy overcame me (and the tears too) when i discovered tiny swiss chard (silverbeet) seedlings presenting themselves in the poorest soil of our garden.  in that moment, i found the edges of myself and the beginning of god's good and always miraculous work of creation and recreation.

the garden reminds me to give thanks for the recreating work of the one who made all things.  it is always when i least expect it that i am converted again to a life in and with this mysterious creator.  and if i look to where hope comes from, at least in my life, i'd say a good bit of it is rooted in the soil, literally.