I
have a number of houseplants, probably too many. Each
has a history—some from funerals, especially in
the last year and half with the death of my dad and my
husband’s parents, others were rescues from my mother
who habitually kills every plant that comes near her,
others just gifts. Only two of them were purchased and
I had them in an office. One of those was at the time
a small ficus tree which nearly died before I brought
it home to rejuvenate it. It is now over six feet tall,
very large, with spreading branches.
Most
of the year, these plants sit on the east facing patio,
soaking in morning sun and providing a gentle green atmosphere
for the space. In the cold weather, however, they have
to come in the house. As I said, I probably have too many
of them. They overwhelm the rooms of the parsonage. Especially
that large, spreading ficus tree.
During
the winter months, I hardly water them at all. Too dry
is better than too wet, and this year, I took “too
dry” to an extreme. Especially for that large, spreading
ficus tree. Since I brought it inside in mid-November,
I doubt that I’ve given it more than a gallon and
a half of water total.
Now,
spring is here. It is unlikely that we’ll see another
frost. Time to take the plants out. That large, spreading
ficus tree is in a good-sized pot now, and I was a little
concerned about moving it myself. However, it was extremely
light. A winter of little water meant some dried out roots
and lowered weight. The plant had been shedding leaves
alarmingly for weeks now and dropped several dozen more
on the way out the door. The first task at that point
was to offer a good long soaking.
That
plant really should be dead. Yet, 24 hours after that
good soaking, I can see the life coming back into it—it
almost seems to be standing straighter. So it is with
lawns and trees and shrubs all over the area. As the longer
days and spring warmth arrive, those buds and green shoots
begin to form. I know it happens every year. Yet, to me,
it is a yearly miracle. That which seemed dead, or so
close to dying as to look dead, is coming back to life
again.
Each
year at this time, I feel myself emerging from the winter
cocoon as I enjoy the yearly miracle of spring. This yearly
renewal of life comes at the time we celebrate Easter,
the mark of absolute renewal of life. Easter, when all
darkness is swallowed in light, when we know without a
doubt that God wins, when death loses its sting and is
swallowed up in victory, when perfect good triumphs over
anything that would try to destroy it. Easter, when in
complete love, God offers to all without preference the
joy of entrance in the heavenly places. May each of you
experience that new life. Not one person is turned away
from this table of love.
