"To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven; a time to be born, and a time to die ..."
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
If there is one thing I've learned from nature, it is that everything has a time and a season, sunrise and sunset, winter to spring, life to death. Nothing remains the same. You'd think after 73 years on this planet, I'd get used to it, accept it and move on. Sometimes that works, like with winter to spring, and sunrise to sunset. When it comes to life and death, though, it's still a struggle.
Today is my birthday. Exactly one week ago my sweet, beloved four-legged, furry Golden Girl, Laura, crossed that rainbow bridge to be with her sister in heaven:
Laura was just coming up on her 18th birthday when a stroke took her. She went with my arms around her, singing to her, and watching her favorite Cat TV channel on YouTube with birds and squirrels. A cardinal was singing to her as she took her last breath. She knew right up to the very end that she was loved.
I have loved and lost 5 cats over the last 33 years. I have also been a gardener, of large and tiny gardens, for almost that long. Between both of these things, you'd think I'd have gotten the message that seasons come and go, and so do those we love. The flowers don't stay in bloom forever, the sun eventually sets, and the April showers will eventually be February's snow. If we know that, know it in our hearts as well as our minds, then why is death so hard to bear? I think the word we're looking for here is love. When we lose someone we love, it's like losing a part of us, a part we think we will never recover. We may know intellectually that the trees will bloom again in the spring, and the grass will grow back, but at that moment our hearts are telling us that there is a huge hole that will never be filled again. We have lost someone who loved us, unconditionally, and that is something you can't just replace by planting a new seed ... or is it?
All things take time. A seed planted today won't bloom tomorrow, or the next day, or maybe even for a week or two. Eventually, if we give it water, light, warmth, and attention, it will sprout, and and a new flower will grow. It may not look exactly like the one we had, and it may even be something completely different, but when the sun shines on it, it will reach it's leaves to the sky in joy. So today, on my birthday, I will look for some seeds, perhaps some Forget Me Not's, plant them in new soil, water them with love, feed them with hope, and wait for that day when tiny green shoots of a new day poke through.
And so it is.
