Jonquils and Resurrection

“If we have been united with Christ in his death, we will certainly also be united with him in his resurrection.”
Romans 6:5 (NIV)

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I'm not sure about you, but January and February are my least favorite months of the year. Perhaps it's the letdown after the frenzied holiday activity. Or maybe it's the longer nights, winter cold, and short gray days. Regardless, I am always ready for spring with its light and color.

Several weeks ago I was out at Mama's farm doing some much needed work in preparation for selling her house. That day was a cold, misty drab January day and my spirits were about the same. I surveyed the myriad boxes designated as donations for the Exchange Club, the trash bags overflowing with garbage and coat hangers, and the empty rooms desperately in need of some paint. As I stood looking at the clutter and the mess, I remembered how proud Mama and Daddy were when they moved into their new home thirty years ago.  It really wasn't grief that washed over me at that moment; it was the realization that one day soon, in the not so distant future, someone will be going through my "treasures" and wondering, "Why in the world did she keep this?" and "What do we do with it now?"

I had just filled another garbage bag and was on my way outside to the garbage can when I saw the two yellow jonquils next to Mama's cherished breezeway. I'm not sure when Mama planted them in her front yard, but there they were, the first flowers of spring. Those two flowers immediately brought a smile to my face and I literally said out loud, "Mama would have loved you!" After 14 years in the Briarwood Flower Guild I've learned to always keep a pair of floral scissors in the center compartment of my purse. The only exception, of course, is when I'm flying. I grabbed my floral shears and quickly cut the two little jonquils, wrapped them in a wet paper towel, and took them home to put on my kitchen table. Those two little flowers brought me such joy all week long. Each time I saw them, I remembered Mama. Not the Mama who eventually lost her words and her memory, but my Mama- the builder, the planter, the matriarch of our family. The strong Mama who encouraged things to grow. The Mama who planted things with a vision not for what they were when planted, but for what they could become. Mama did that with her family; the children she mentored at her elementary school; the homes she built; the gardens she planted; the plants she nurtured; and the faith she grew.

Sometime during the week I remembered taking Mama for a drive through Bluff Park and Vestavia along the ridge of Shades Mountain a couple of years ago. The dogwood trees were in full bloom and the neighborhoods were bursting with the colors of spring. Mama laughed when I told her that my four year old granddaughter's favorite name for the dogwood trees is "snowball trees!" Mama shared my amazement when I told her that given the choice between spending $5 on a treat or a plant from Collier's Nursery, Caroline will choose the plant any day of the week. That apple didn't fall far from Mama's tree.

Mama suddenly turned reflective as we neared the end of that drive. "Anybody who doubts the reality of the resurrection and life after death has never really considered spring and the life that bursts forth when everything seems dead."

God used two little jonquils to remind me of our hope and the reality of the resurrection. Mama's body is dead, but her spirit and her faith, much like her jonquils live on.

Though dead, yet by her faith she still speaks (Hebrews 11:4 NASB)