Gardens and Lambs
Not to over-spiritualize things (after all, it is Easter weekend), but this weekend has been one of deep reflection for me. I wrote the other day about our Passover plans for our family. I know Passover, the real one, was almost a week ago. We chose to celebrate it on Good Friday intentionally: we wanted our kids to grasp the connection between Passover and Easter; between the blood of the lamb that saved the Israelites and Jesus' blood that covers us.
We ate by candlelight last night, talking about the significance of this meal and its connection to our own stories. We talked about the food itself, especially since the kids had never tasted lamb before. We had unleavened bread, and talked about why God asked them to eat it. I had struggled to come up with a preschool-appropriate Passover menu, especially when it came to vegetables. I finally decided to make white asparagus. My reasons were two-fold: for one, it grows in the area where the Passover feast was begun. But more importantly, white asparagus grows underground. We talked about the significance of that; how at first glance it might look like the asparagus was dead, dormant under the soil. But all the while it's growing, living. I think they grasped some of the connection. When we had finished eating, we read the Passover story from one of their children's Bibles, and then read the story of the last supper. It will remain one of my favorite memories, and I think this will be a yearly tradition (although next year we may opt for Passover chicken--the lamb wasn't a roaring hit for anyone!).
In the midst of all the Easter preparations, I got somewhat of a surprise delivery yesterday. I'd ordered perennials for our garden back in the fall, knowing they'd be shipped mid-spring. Mid-spring. Of course, they arrived yesterday. In little boxes. Without soil. So the work on our gardens has begun in full force, much to our own surprise. Thankfully, the snow had melted from the flower beds (although we still have deep patches of it in places) and the ground was thawed. We had nine big, thick, half-century-year-old shrubs that needed to come out first. If you've never removed shrubs by hand, you're missing the workout of a lifetime. It puts just about any other exercise regime to shame, I firmly believe.
Yesterday I spent the afternoon trimming back first living branches, and then those that had died and dried out on our massive shrubs. As I worked, I had more than enough time to reflect. How interesting that on Easter weekend I would find myself clearing my garden, cutting away the old, the unusable, to make way for the new. I couldn't help but notice the symbolism as I prepared my garden for new growth, for new life. I can't think of a better way to anticipate Easter, honestly. In some ways, I think a garden is a perfect picture (much like asparagus growing underground!) of what God does in our lives: pruning the old, tilling the soil, planting new seeds, feeding them, watering them, and ultimately standing back proudly as our full colors emerge.
Interesting, this weekend of gardens and lambs. I am approaching Easter from a very different place this year. What an amazing gift.
We ate by candlelight last night, talking about the significance of this meal and its connection to our own stories. We talked about the food itself, especially since the kids had never tasted lamb before. We had unleavened bread, and talked about why God asked them to eat it. I had struggled to come up with a preschool-appropriate Passover menu, especially when it came to vegetables. I finally decided to make white asparagus. My reasons were two-fold: for one, it grows in the area where the Passover feast was begun. But more importantly, white asparagus grows underground. We talked about the significance of that; how at first glance it might look like the asparagus was dead, dormant under the soil. But all the while it's growing, living. I think they grasped some of the connection. When we had finished eating, we read the Passover story from one of their children's Bibles, and then read the story of the last supper. It will remain one of my favorite memories, and I think this will be a yearly tradition (although next year we may opt for Passover chicken--the lamb wasn't a roaring hit for anyone!).
In the midst of all the Easter preparations, I got somewhat of a surprise delivery yesterday. I'd ordered perennials for our garden back in the fall, knowing they'd be shipped mid-spring. Mid-spring. Of course, they arrived yesterday. In little boxes. Without soil. So the work on our gardens has begun in full force, much to our own surprise. Thankfully, the snow had melted from the flower beds (although we still have deep patches of it in places) and the ground was thawed. We had nine big, thick, half-century-year-old shrubs that needed to come out first. If you've never removed shrubs by hand, you're missing the workout of a lifetime. It puts just about any other exercise regime to shame, I firmly believe.
Yesterday I spent the afternoon trimming back first living branches, and then those that had died and dried out on our massive shrubs. As I worked, I had more than enough time to reflect. How interesting that on Easter weekend I would find myself clearing my garden, cutting away the old, the unusable, to make way for the new. I couldn't help but notice the symbolism as I prepared my garden for new growth, for new life. I can't think of a better way to anticipate Easter, honestly. In some ways, I think a garden is a perfect picture (much like asparagus growing underground!) of what God does in our lives: pruning the old, tilling the soil, planting new seeds, feeding them, watering them, and ultimately standing back proudly as our full colors emerge.
Interesting, this weekend of gardens and lambs. I am approaching Easter from a very different place this year. What an amazing gift.
