Wet redbuds and damp robins


Such a balmy evening! I ate supper on the side porch stoop: gazed at the emerald green , freshly mown lawn, at the redbud branches flung crazily hither and yon, laced with elegant purple. Then on an impulse I moved to the upstairs porch, brought down from the attic a folding table we use for camping, then retrieved a folding LLBean chair a friend gave me for my birthday last year, fetched a peach rug from its winter hibernation in the spare room. This is the evening closing a day off. Precious, very precious, but only because I love my work and therefore desperately need my rest too.

I cheated today: did some work-related email and finished off a sermon. I had home chores too: bills, laundry, grocery shopping, lawn mowing, all unglamorous. But I played too: saw yellow winter cress, yellow violets, and held my face up to a hot yellow sun. I listened to a brown thrasher at noon, marking his territory with rare song. I rubbed the bellies of my panting, thirsty dogs. And I settled in my summer chair on the upstairs porch, my summer room, while I relished the fact that the tipping globe sends milder air. Now I can dwell outdoors in this high perch, eye level to swallows catching insects.

No sooner had I sat down and snapped a few photos of the redbud across the drive, when the wind whipped furiously, and storms clouds chased one another, and the rain began to pelt for awhile. I ran with my laptop inside.

Twenty minutes later, it is quiet again and ten degrees cooler. But before I head to my outside room, with a blanket this time, I want to say what I am deeply grateful for.

In the work email that I read, but shouldn’t have read on a day off, I learned that four people have stepped forward. They have volunteered their energy and enthusiasm in various tasks where their help is desperately needed in our faith community. I am in awe of God’s provision and their dedication and offering. Christ is indeed risen and showing up at unexpected times and doing surprising things. I guess one of the best gifts a pastor can receive on a day off, is to know that the Holy Spirit is in control…not me.

Now, back outside to wet red buds and damp robins.

Comments

  1. That was one beautiful doozy of a storm on Friday. On the drive to and from Indiana last week, blooming redbud and dogwood were constant company. I was pleased to learn that a parishioner will begin our memorial garden (at the top of the little hill on the church property) by planting three redbud trees. I was also bemused to learn that around here, they are sometimes known as “Judas trees”.

  2. I have a few red bud volunteers I want to carefully nurture and replant. The tree is beautiful, but so brittle and breakable. Why Judas? I don’t know, but wouldn’t it be grace-filled if red bud beauty could grow even in the most broken of us, Judas included.