Signs of Spring

In many ways, it has been a two-and-a-half year winter for me. While I have always loved the first blush of spring, and looked forward to digging in the earth and searching for signs of life, the winter of my life has prevented me from seeing sunshine and flowers for quite some time.

I am trying to embrace the new life that moving into my new home seems to offer me. I often struggle with it all, and feel undeserving of my beautiful home, or concern over spending so much on a single person (and a beloved dog, as shared in a previous post). Brett's casting off of what he considers materialism and the "Eastside life style" causes me deep questions regarding my current situation (Brett has joined the Peace Corps, and leaves for Africa in September. This has been a life-long dream of mine since it was first suggested to me as a result of a test I took in high school). On a deeper level, his casting off of me makes me wonder what I may deserve. 

I have told the Lord often that I am quite willing to sell all and leave all, should I feel that that is His desire for me. I long to serve a mission, and leave all material trappings behind, but my logic tells me that it is not the time to do so, when I know that I would return at the age of 61 or so and be looking for a job. My feelings of logic and responsibility war with the temptation to leave all and wander the world as a volunteer. While it may seem of great merit and responsibility to volunteer throughout the world, there is the logical realization that someone eventually would have to pay for my keep as age catches up and the body can no longer keep up with the heart. I feel responsible to do all within my power, now, to prevent that need from arising. While I would love to look to a husband to share this with, the fact is true now that I must care for my own needs.

My waffling uncertainty is evident in my approach to my home. The week after the last snow (March 22), I gave in to my yearning for new life, and went to Home Depot to buy some flowers to plant in pots Brett and I bought together in much-happier times. The fact that those pots represented such happiness gave me pause in being able to carry out my mission. While I planted the beautiful new flowers, I could not keep back memories of Brett and I laughing together and earnestly watching over each flower and herb under our care. We spent many hours joyfully choosing, planting, pruning and watering our beloved gardens. . . . This was the first time that I would plant and watch alone. Not that I didn't spend many years caring for gardens by myself, but Brett had brought that era to an end. I couldn't help but brush away stray tears of memory as I planted on this new Spring morning, wistfully remembering, and yet still hoping for new life to take hold within my heart.

The flowers have grown beautifully since planting them just two weeks ago. Isabeau keeps careful watch for birds who now come to visit our birdhouse. She takes her job very seriously, and is afraid that if she were to come inside, the birds would surely come - and she cannot take the chance. I have to carry her into the house when it is time to go to bed.

I, like Isabeau, watch, but I do not watch for birds. I watch for signs of spring, of new life and new hope and new purpose and new mission. It feels as if I have been watching for a long time, and have seen only winter's bleakness . . . And yet - and yet! - I am planting flowers, and preparing the ground of my heart to receive spring's warming sun. The uncertainty still prevails: I may have planted spring pots, but I have not been able to bring myself to purchase patio furniture in order to sit and enjoy those flowers; that seems too permanent, too much of a commitment that would inevitably bring with it the possibility of new loss. I am a tender plant, putting forth tiny tendrils, and yearning for reassurance that all will be well, and that summer will come at last.