This morning, as I arrived at the church, the wildflowers in the cemetery caught my eye. [As they do every year]. These flowers remind me of the stubbornness of God and God's determination for new life.
I have a practice of walking through our cemetery periodically. I remember the people I have buried there, sometimes talking to them for a bit. I see our ancestors from years before (most of whom I didn't know) to whom the promise of new life was given as well.
Just a few weeks ago, the cemetery was still in its winter state. Over the last few weeks, the grass has turned green, and these flowers popped out, seemingly out of nowhere. The wildflowers aren't planted by us, but rather, seeds are usually dropped by animals. Despite our regular cutting of the grass, despite the winter's frost, despite the squirrels and other creatures that eat the seeds, we get these pops of color every year.
This spring, in particular, I need that reminder in that place. Over the course of the pandemic, we have buried a number of our friends, our family members, beloved children of God. People whom we miss, whom I miss dearly. And there, this morning, these flowers reminded me that the stones don't have the last word, death does not have the last word. Instead, God is stubbornly (despite all the things) working to bring about new life and resurrection for us and for all.
So I wonder... Where do you find signs of God's stubborn push for new life among us?