Why I Loved April

"in the fourth month"

Jeremiah 39:2

I don't know what it is about me, but I love to sort of categorize the seasons of my life.  In a way, I think our culture leads us to; we say "I'm having a bad day" when maybe it's not really the entire day that has been bad.  Queen Elizabeth referred to 1992 as the annus horribilis, when she looked back over the misfortunes suffered by the Royal Family that year.

photo credit: abcnews

Anyhow, I sometimes look back over the previous month or year, and have an overall bad or good feeling about it; either thankful to be through it, or appreciative of what was wonderful about it.

March was a bad month for our family.  First of all, I had a terrible cold, and my kids and husband each had lesser version of it.  I really only get a cold every few years, but when I do, it's a doozy.  But even worse, was the unexpected deaths of both our dog and our cat, less than three weeks apart.  All-in-all, a bad month.

So I was almost relieved for the light green, perfumed, floral, lyrical beauty of April.  And I read this, early in the month: "The month of April is said to derive its name from the Latin verb aperio, which signifies to open, because all the buds and blossoms are now opening, and we have arrived at the gates of the flowery year."  Isn't that lovely sounding?

So as April comes to a close, I'm appreciative for all that it has been ~ much of which seems like nothing special, but a lot of "slightly special" adds up to very special!

April was my family, grieving and coming to grips with the loss of our pets, in laughter and joy in the memories we created with them.  It's true that memories keep our loved ones in our hearts.

April was seeing a long-expected movie premiere together with my family.  I love that we, and our kids, enjoy much of the same entertainment, and that we were all excited to see it and talk about it with one another.  I love who my kids are becoming, and I treasure every moment of these wonderful teenage years.

April was weather I love.  Summer is still a ways off ~ far enough that I don't have to think about it.  Because if I start to think about it, I'm gonna start to dread it.  Not my favorite season... But April?  Yes, please.

April was dolphins.  My daughter got to go whale (and dolphin) watching with my folks, and my sister and her family.  I wasn't there, but I got to see the pictures, and if there's anything as much fun as experiencing something myself, it's experiencing it through my kids' eyes.  I live vicariously, and I'm not ashamed.

April was diamonds and opals and emeralds and amethysts and blindingly-beautiful gemstones of every color, as my kids and I visited the Gemological Institute of America.

April was baseball.  'Nuff said.

April was a visit from my nephew, and our silent game where I continually turn his Winnie-the-Pooh upside down.  This effort on my part results in sideways grins and eye-rolls from my beautiful nephew.

April was Easter ~ and renewed appreciation for the sacrifice of my Savior, and the gift of eternal life.

April was lunch with a dear friend, a purple finch on my clothesline, making peace with a difficult choice, and prom dress shopping with my breathtaking daughter.

April was lilting and gentle, pastel and pastoral, verdancy and petrichor.

I am blessed.

~ "celebrate the dedication with gladness,

    both with thanksgivings and singing,

    with cymbals and stringed instruments and harps" ~

Nehemiah 12:27

~

Answers to yesterday's quiz:

1. (c) Jacob (Genesis 29)

2. (b) Zion (Joel 3)

3. (d) Sixth (Genesis 1)

4. (b) One (Genesis 6)

5. (a) Paul (2 Corinthians 10,11)

6. (a) Amorites (Joshua 10)

7. (d) Peter (John 18)

8. (c) Noah (Genesis 9)

9. (b) Eliab (1 Samuel 2)

10. (b) Zechariah

Flowers and Dirt

"trampled down like mud"

Micah 7:10

These pictures aren't great.  I took them with my phone.  So I hope you can see them okay.

I took these at a baseball field a few weeks ago.  We were visitors there, and it's not a field we've played at before. 

You see the dirt-y part of this picture?  It's a pathway from a practice area, to the field itself, going around an equipment shed.  Our kids trampled across this area when it was their turn to take the field, and it was obvious from the patchy grass that we were far from the first team to do so.  Clearly the grass has trouble growing there.

But what's harder to see in that picture, in the lower left-hand corner.  See them?

Lovely little lavender flowers!  I saw them and smiled to myself, and pointed them out to my husband, "Look at those amazing flowers that insist on growing, despite all the cleats that parade through here!"

And immediately two words came to mind:  buffalo wallow.

A buffalo wallow is a natural depression in the topography of the prairie that would collect rain.  The water would draw buffalo, to drink, and to bathe.  Over the years, this depression would grow, holding more water and attracting more wildlife.

Here's the wikipedia photo:

When I was a kid and read the Laura Ingalls Wilder books, Laura tells the story of her youngest sister, Grace, wandering away from their home when no one was watching.  The rest of the family split up to search for her on the vast prairie.

Laura was the one who found Grace, sitting in an old buffalo wallow that was filled with violets.  Laura had never seen anything like it before, and when her Ma asked her, "Where did you find her?"  Laura found herself at a loss to describe the beautiful, fragrant hollow place.

How's that for a stellar quality photo?   Direct from my personal copy of "By the Shores of Silver Lake"

"Masses of violets blossoming above low-spreading leaves.  Violets covered the flat bottom of a large, round hollow.  All around this lake of violets, grassy banks rose almost straight up to the prairie-level.  There in the round, low place, the wind hardly disturbed the fragrance of the violets... 'Pa, could it be a fairy ring?  A place like that couldn't just happen, Pa.  Something made it.'"

Pa explained to Laura how the hollow was formed, and there was such irony in those massive, ungainly creatures being a part of that delightful place.  Life and beauty emerged.

I don't know if those little lavender flowers appeared because of all those boys' cleats, or in spite of them.  But I was reminded that lovely and fragile often win out over heavy and strong.  And I was reminded to persevere in the mud, because the flowers are coming.

~ "Love bears all things,

  believes all things,

  hopes all things,

     endures all things" ~

1 Corinthians 13:7

~

the little yellow flower

"a flower of the field"

Psalm 103:15

I pulled a weed the other day.  And then sort of wished I hadn't. 

I did it rather absent-mindedly.  It was in the front yard, in the planter right next to the driveway.  I was out front saying good-bye to my sweetie, and I glanced over at what's normally a weed-free planter, with one succulent in the middle, but there was this weed in there, so I gave it a quick yank, returning the planter to weed-free.

Then I looked at what was in my hand, and saw that it was more than just a weed; it was a wildflower. 

Now you might be of the opinion that a wildflower is just a weed with a flower on it, but that would be cynical of you.  Besides, there's more to the story... 

The weed came completely out of the dirt, root and all, and the whole thing measures eighteen inches in length.  One stem, with one flower on it.  That's all.  But eighteen inches tall! 

And even more interesting:  of that eighteen inches, the root system was a little less than three inches.  And the flower?  A little yellow flower, smaller than my pinkie nail.  That's it.   

I really don't know why this struck me so deeply.  Somehow it made me think of the rose in one of my favorite books, Antoine de Saint-Exupery's The Little Prince.  A sweet, delicate unassuming flower, of whom the little prince said, "If some one loves a flower, of which just one single blossom grows in all the millions and millions of stars, it is enough to make him happy just to look at the stars.  He can say to himself: 'Somewhere, my flower is there...' "

Such a sweet book...

The little flower went almost unnoticed by me.  I didn't even think to take a picture of it until long after it had died, and now I have to substitute a photo of a different yellow flower... 

But I kept thinking that maybe there was something to learn from that wildflower...

I don't know if the lesson is about the length of the root in relation to the stem.  Three inches of root was enough to hold 15 inches of stem above ground.  God wants us firmly rooted in Him, and we can then accomplish much.

I don't know if the lesson is about the length of the stem in relation to the size of the flower.  It seemed like a tiny flower for all that stem.  But that's part of what made it seem so sweet and delicate to me.  It didn't have much to show off, but it held its beauty up proudly.

Or maybe it was about the existence of this one solitary weed in what's normally a somewhat inhospitable environment for weeds.  I don't know how it grew so tall without my seeing it, and pulling it before it had a chance to flower.  Maybe the lesson is about perseverance. 

Or maybe it's just about appreciating beauty, and being teachable enough to not let one tiny yellow lesson go unlearned.

~ "Out of Zion,

the perfection of beauty,

God will shine forth" ~

Psalm 50:2

~

I'll have to settle for a copy of the Declaration of Independence

"the flower of the field"

Isaiah 40:6

I live in California, but a few years ago, my family and I took a wonderful trip to the East Coast.  We saw parts of New Jersey, Philadelphia, Maryland, Virginia, West Virginia, DC and Ohio.  We toured Presidents' homes and government buildings, monuments and battlefields.  We also went to five baseball games, two amusement parks and an aquarium.  We're nothing if not well-rounded.

One of the places we visited was Thomas Jefferson's home, Monticello.  Beautiful place.  The house, the grounds, the gardens... all of it.  And I have such great memories of our visit there, because you have to buy tickets ahead of time, and you have to have an appointment.  I guess it's that busy.

But because of road construction, and the fact that we were driving all the way from Jamestown, we were late.  So when we got there, we joined our tour of the house, which was already in progress, so we missed the first two rooms.  But after our tour, our guide spoke to the lady in charge, and they allowed us to join another tour for long enough to see those rooms we'd missed.  I was really impressed with that.  People are not always so accommodating, you know?

Anyhow, instead of remembering that day as one of frustration and anxiety and rushing, I remember their kindness.  It contributed to my overall enjoyment of the day and all that was so interesting and intriguing and beautiful about Monticello.

Even though that was a few years ago, I still frequently about Monticello.   Either because we had ordered our tickets, or because we purchased something in the gift shop, they have my email address, and every few days I get an email from them, letting me know what their weekly specials are. 

It's kind of fun to look through the emails when I get them, even though I know I'm not going to buy anything.  China, home decor, decorations for the garden, etc. 

The most interesting things, though, are the plants.  Jefferson was very interested in botany, so the idea of being able to plant something in my own garden, a bit of something he had in his garden, is so intriguing. 

But it's also impossible. 

Because as I mentioned, I live in California, one of the five states to which Monticello cannot ship plants.  Those of you in Canada are also out of luck.  California ~ and I suppose it's the same for Hawaii, Arizona, Oregon and Washington ~ is very concerned about the insects and micro-organisms that could harm the agricultural this-and-that here, so they are very strict about the plants that cross the border. 

I wish I could order plants from Monticello.  But they're not for me.  And even if California would let them in, they probably wouldn't grow well here.  So that's how it has to be.  So I don't covet them.  I understand they're just not for me.  I can't have a pet penguin, either. 

There's a lot of beauty where I am.  Everywhere I look.  It's nice to be able to appreciate the beauty in others' lives, without thinking it's not "fair" that I can't have it, too.   If we choose to live like that, there will always be something that someone else has that we want. 

So we can want what we can't have, or we can simply want what we have.

~ "One thing have I desired of the Lord,

that will I seek after:

That I may dwell in the house of the Lord

all the days of my life,

To behold the beauty of the Lord" ~

Psalm 27:4

~

The Tale of the Flower

"the flower falls"

1 Peter 1:24

I had a very unusual experience a couple of weeks ago.  Very unusual.  Not huge, but something I can be pretty sure will never happen to me again.

When my sisters were in town with their hubbies (and one nephew) we went to Disneyland together.   It was a fun, but very long day.  We got there shortly after opening, and stayed until closing, and of course, you're on your feet nearly the whole time.  Not just walking, but also a lot of standing, and occasionally a little running.    

So at the end of the day, we dragged our tired bodies to the loading area for the trams that would take us to the parking structure.  We were in line behind another family, although you couldn't really call it a "line," per se.  The kids sat on the curb, and the grownups were all sort of grouped.  I was towards the front of our family.  The family in front of us was a couple of grownups, and a few kids, who all seemed to be in their mid- to late-teens.

We were all just standing there waiting... not much energy for anything else...

And while I was standing there, I was holding a flower in my hands.  Just a little daisy type of flower.  Maybe a gazania.  My wonderful children often pick wildflowers for me.  I have dozens of them tucked into my Bibles and other books in my house.  And maybe even a couple tucked in my wallet.

My Amazing Boy had picked this flower for me as we had walked, and I didn't want to crush it by putting it in my bag.  So I just held it.  We walked from Fantasyland, around the Matterhorn to Main Street, and halfway down Main Street to the lockers, where we retrieved our sunglasses and my brother-in-law's jacket.  Then the rest of the way down Main Street to the front gate, through the turnstile, past the entrance to California Adventure, past the stroller/wheelchair rental, and the kennel, past the entrance to Downtown Disney --

Did I mention we were really tired?

And all that way, I gently held my flower.  And then, as I stood and waited for the parking lot tram, behind a family of strangers, one of the teenagers in the group silently pulled the flower out of my hand.  I was a little stunned, and a little confused.  I guess I assumed he wanted to see it, or something; I don't know what I was thinking, but it was only a half a second.

And a half a second later, while I stood, incredulous, he quickly and silently tore my flower to shreds, then dropped the pieces on the ground like confetti. 

No one else saw.  His family was all facing forward, and my family was either behind me, or off to the side chatting with each other.   I was absolutely dumbfounded.

A minute later, he put his head on his mother's shoulder, and I immediately knew by the way they interacted with each other, that he was autistic.  And that, I guess, explained it.

I mean, it didn't, but it did.  I can't for the life of me imagine why he took a flower out of a stranger's hands, and destroyed it.  But he probably doesn't know either.

It's not hard to forgive him.  I understand enough about autism to know that he really didn't have full awareness of what he was doing, and that it never occurred to him it was unkind.  But I gotta be honest, it really, really felt unkind.  I felt like I'd been slapped.  Small, meaningless, and replaceable though it was, the flower was a gift from my baby, and I was sad that it was gone.

And please remember I was exhausted. 

And you know what the lesson is in this story?

Stuff happens.

Unexplainable, weird, painful, wrong, bizarre, surprising, sad stuff happens.   For no reason.   And life doesn't apologize.  It just is.

Sometimes all we can do is sigh, lean closer into the Lord, and wait for the next flower.

For there will be another.

~ "Behold the winter is past;

the rain is over and gone.

The flowers appear on the earth,

the time of singing has come" ~

Song of Solomon 2:11-12

~