Saturday, April 3, 2010

"Now the Green Blade Rises..."






Two weeks ago, we burned "the Triangle," a patch of field bordered on two sides by driveways (both of them ours) and one side by the town road we live on. We intended to do a burn, as we do every couple of years to give our expanding collection of prairie wild flowers a head start in the race against the weeds and grasses. But this year things got exciting when the fire went faster than anyone expected.

But nothing that wasn't supposed to burn burned, and we had a big black patch between our driveway and the yet-to-be-planted corn field. Over the last few days, however, green has returned little by little. Yesterday it rained, and now the whole patch is kelly green; the charred grasses from last year are nearly swallowed up by new life. (The photos above are sort of "before" and "after.") This just about always happens when there is a grass fire, but it still seems like a miracle to me. Green returns, in spite of what we do.


The windows in our church santuary were covered with black sheer-ish curtains for Holy Thursday and Good Friday. All decoration had been removed from the church, and last night the environment was spare and grim, as you might expect. Some of the windows face west, and on a good evening you can watch spectacular sunsets from your seat in the church. Too beautiful, too distracting for Good Friday, indeed, so the windows had to be covered.

But last night, as the service went on, the sunset was so bright that you could still see it through the curtains. Dark a day as yesterday was, though, the darkness of failure, despair and death could not hide the beauty and brightness of the setting sun. Darkness is swallowed up by light in spite of what we try to do!

It's too late for me to be up writing this; the sun rises tomorrow at 6:49am and I will be with other believers at our outdoor sunrise service, celebrating the truth that the Light of the Risen Christ always trumps the darkness.

And not just the darkness of night, the darkness of failure, of confusion or despair... but the darkness of death. Death now becomes the portal to life eternal, where there is always light... where there is nothing but peace and joy.

So, even with the hard things in our lives, the sad things, the irritating things, we are bold to proclaim: "Christ is risen! He is risen indeed, alleluia."

3 comments:

Natalie said...

A note from Superior's North Shore: Bill, at Bob's Cabins on Lake Superior, loaned me "Eddie's Wake". We live next door to Bill, and have the good fortune to be kindred in spirit. There is depth and power in "Eddie's Wake" that takes me aback, but is very welcome. If a person can, it seems good to take time with a story like this. Some thoughts and words, as in "Eddie's Wake", wash back and forth like Superior's waters, a part of the bigger rhythm, and sometimes we feel them and they stay. And so it can be with the waves of thought and feeling that Carol is sharing in "Eddie' Wake".
In reading, I feel gratitude that the author shares what is such a depth of feeling. If one can share only that which they have, then the author has much. Beyond the insights, and the gripping drama, this book seems to be an act of kindness. I wish to thank you. Tom Bothwell

Dave said...

Amen, Carol! "Green returns, in spite of what we do." Boy, does that fit with what I see so often. Seems all my efforts of trying to grow a business wind up as dead ends. Then out of seemingly nowhere along comes an open door, a new job opportunity. I think the Lord works this way on purpose! All I know is how much I need Him.

C. A. Peterson said...

Thank you, Tom (or is it Natalie?). I'm so pleased that you like the novel and appreciate you taing the time to comment. Word of mouth is the best publicity for a new author.

And Dave, thanks for your comments and affirmation.