On a bright spring morning, a walk does my spirit good. And as I circle my block, I come across her garden.
I can almost see her standing there in the shadow of her home, wearing spring pastels and kelly green tennis shoes, pointing out weeds and asking her husband to pull them. Her white hair shines like a crown in the sun. Her eyes dance and her arms wave a happy hello as I walk up her front path.
But she’s been gone to heaven for some time now. And her husband, too – last June. I still miss them – just as much as I did the day I learned that Mr. Schab had at last followed his wife Home.
So I stand looking at Mrs. Schab’s garden. Her flowers are beginning to bloom.
First, I see a single red tulip.
Then the blue vinca minor (periwinkle).
Then the viburnum.
And her bright pink azaleas.
Colorful, vibrant life springs from the brown, hard earth.
I seldom see their family visiting the house anymore. I suppose it’s been mostly cleaned out.
But you can’t remove everything that’s been planted, deep in fertile soil. You can’t strip it all – even from ground that appears, on the surface, to be nothing but weeds.
The garden renews my hope in the Promise. That with God’s help, our tiny seeds of peace and love – in our families, communities, nation, the world – will surely blossom into something beautiful, when the appropriate time comes.
As the earth brings forth its plants,
and a garden makes its growth spring up,
So will the Lord God make justice and praise
spring up before all nations.