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| Saint Francis of Assisi stands guard on our backyard terrace garden |
Snow fell last November before I seized
the opportunity to deadhead my lower, backyard garden—the last on my list of dried
stems and seed heads to feed a burn pile.
Neither
did my mate and I carry our weighty statue of St. Francis of Assisi from his post
on the terrace to the garage for his winter doze.
“We’ve
done enough work this growing season,” I spoke to my helping hand. “Let the
birds eat the seeds. St. Francis will appreciate their company.”
He
agreed.
Well,
a goldfinch, house finch, or cardinal has yet to perch upon St. Francis’ head,
or land on seedpods. Whenever in the kitchen, I keep watch from the windows,
binoculars and Bird Identifier chart handy in effort to spy more Michigan
birds.
I
hope to witness the day wings descend upon my winter offering. The sight and
sound are as delightful as a playground of youngsters on a summer day, albeit
brief.
Meanwhile,
I admire this month of fondant landscapes on walks and from inside the house. Amongst
all this white, I’d welcome the contrast of a crow or two. And their laughter.
Any cheerful, living thing.
No,
I don’t suffer cabin fever, anxiety, or fear, for God meets all our needs
according to His riches in Glory. And truly, my lower garden is quite content
to overwinter wild.
Which
means I’ll have more Rudbeckia, phlox, and Echinacea seedlings to weed and
transplant this coming spring.
What
troubles me is a phone conversation with a young mother two days ago. A visitor
of my former lavender farm, we reconnected after fourteen years. Her voice
sounded tired and discouraged.
“Are
you ill? May I help?” I said.
She
hesitated. “No. Thank you for asking. Work is overwhelming. We’re off today
because of the snow, and my son and I dread going back.”
“Where
do you work?”
“My
son’s public school. The administration mandates masks. I’m a kindergarten
assistant, and cannot bear what’s happening to the children and my boy. We
can’t sleep for worry.”
My
first conversation with a public school teacher regarding this dilemma, I
replied with the only response I felt capable to speak. “Would you like a lavender
bouquet to help you rest?”
“How
will you do that?”
“I
keep bundles of dried lavender for occasions like this.”
“Yes,
please.”
That
evening I packaged my promise with two lavender sachets. The following morning
I woke feeling my love inadequate to encourage this weary mother and her child.
I
recalled my difficult meetings with school administrators, teachers, and coaches
who crossed the line of their authority with one of our three girls. Both
private and public schools.
Dear
Reader, a neighbor plowed one side of our circle driveway, enough for now.
Enough for my husband to drive my package to the post office.
I
pray my gifts are enough to grant my friend and her son a ray of hope. I pray
God meets all their needs according to His riches in Glory.
