Planting Hope

Late every winter, like many of you, I get an overwhelming urge to plant flowers. One more
February snowfall covers the frozen ground and gradually melts, leaving muddy puddles and
brown patches of grass. Everything is left in various shades of brown.

During Lent, we are reminded that our lives will return to dust. We will “return to that ground
[ourselves], dead and buried; [we] started out as dirt, [we’ll] end up dirt.” (Genesis 3:19, The
Message). But during Lent, we pause, holding our breaths, watching, waiting, because we know
that this dust is not the end, but only the beginning.

As I drive past barren, brown fields, I notice the soil has been turned over – a sure sign that
farmers still believe in resurrection. The fields may look dead and empty, but the farmers know
that in that brown dirt lies a future harvest. So they prepare their fields in faith. They turn over
the soil and fertilize and plant, expecting a miracle to happen.

Many of us feel as barren and bereft as the dirty fields outside. But Jesus is the patient farmer,
turning over the soil, planting and waiting for His work in our lives to yield a rich harvest. “Being
confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the
day of Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 1:6 NIV)

This year, I bought things to start my flower seeds – zinnias and marigolds, but I had a hard time
convincing myself to start planting. I’ve been following the news in Ukraine, and my heart is
aching. How can I plant flowers when so many are forced to leave their homes, not knowing if
they’ll get to plant flowers this year, much less see them bloom?

In Every Moment Holy, Vol 1, there is a liturgy for the “Planting of Flowers.” In it, the leader asks,
“In a world shadowed by cruelty, violence, and loss, is there good reason for the planting of
flowers?” The people respond: “Ah, yes! For these bursts of color and beautiful blooms are
bright dabs of grace, witnesses to a promise, reminders of a spreading beauty more eternal,
and therefore stronger, than any evil, than any grief, than any injustice or violence….these living
witnesses are rumors and reminders of a joy that will soon swallow all sorrow.’

I did, eventually, plant my seeds – lilliput and giant zinnias, marigolds and milkweed. Putting dirt
in each of the cups, I’m reminded that we were made from dust and we will return to test. As I
nestle the seeds in the dirt, I’m reminded that life comes from death, that we hope in the
resurrection of Jesus. As I watch these flowers grow, I pray for those who have been forced
from their homes. When I cut my flowers later this summer, I will savor these “reminders of a joy
that will soon swallow all sorrow.”

I hope you choose to plant some flowers this spring as well. Remember the hope we have in the
Resurrection of Jesus Christ.