May is for mother’s and graduations, seedlings and birds frantically feeding and nesting, all things pointing to life.
Train up a child…
And yet for many, in the midst of emerging, emerald green foliage is the heavy weight of ambivalence. For many the life changes and celebrations just plain hurt.
As an empty nester, the sting of mama-release was worst when our oldest graduated high school. The transition from having him home to not home felt awkward at best. The happy orbit I’d been traveling around him for 18 years was suddenly off track, and I felt it bone deep in the echo of his empty bedroom, in the Saturdays void of his athletic events, in the favorite snacks I reached for at the grocery, then set back on the shelf realizing they’d go uneaten.
Back then, a mother of one of his friends scolded me for my grief. “He’s doing what he’s supposed to do. Sheesh.”
I wish I would’ve known then what I know now–and told her so–that grieving a massive life shift is quite all right to do.
The Lord is near to the broken-hearted…
We’ve been studying the parable of the seeds and the sower in depth at church the last few weeks, and the garden-lover that I am has been reveling in the new, living-word perspectives.
One thing I’ve been thinking about as I have been starting seedlings and edging garden beds and cutting back weeds is that seeds only break open in darkness.
This past weekend I pressed papery seeds into peat-filled starters, and I envisioned the zinnias I will some day be able to snip and enjoy in a Ball jar vase. But as I folded the soil over the seeds, I thought about how impossible that day seemed. Could sunshine, water, and soil really grow up to be the same vivid plant in the photo on the seed packet?
Did I give my boy enough sunshine?
Should I have given my girl more fertilizer?
What if he was a shade plant I forced to be in the sun?
What if she was a succulent I watered too much?
Will the sun ever lift my tender heart-leaves above the black soil of my past?
More than that, how many times have I felt like a seed, tiny and lifeless, buried in a cold, dark, lonely place?
How many times has the watering word of God, the light of Jesus, and the soil of the Spirit worked together to bring beautiful things to the surface, things that bloom into blessings?
He who has begun a good work in you will complete it…
May is for celebrating, even if the seeds we planted in our children don’t seem to be stirring, even if the chaff of our own painful childhoods feel wasted, even if the prospect of soon-empty bedrooms causes an ache in your heart-roots, even if your family tree looks more like a weeping willow that’s lost too many branches.
Whatever season you find yourself in, whether you have a graduate, are a mama, are facing another broken holiday, or are basking in the full sun of celebration, know this: May is for celebrating, because we follow a farmer-God who plants with purpose, who waits to harvest so not one will be lost, who wept blood-tears in a garden to save us all.
“Listen carefully: Unless a grain of wheat is buried in the ground, dead to the world, it is never any more than a grain of wheat. But if it is buried, it sprouts and reproduces itself many times over. In the same way, anyone who holds on to life just as it is destroys that life. But if you let it go, reckless in your love, you’ll have it forever, real and eternal.”
John 12:24-25 TMV