Life Out of Death

Here on planet Earth, death is an inescapable pursuer.

A relentless foe.

Nemesis.

Ultimately, the victor. Here on planet Earth.

Last fall my dad planted strawberries in one of my gardens. I love strawberries. I dutifully watered the transplants and covered them with straw before winter set in. They were under there for many, many cold months.

When my husband uncovered them this spring, it appeared we had waited too long. Everything was dead. No sign of life. Mold. Rot. Decomposing death.

Defeated, we turned our attention to things still living. After all, what do you do with death besides bury it?

Mourn.

Move on.

The other day I walked down to the strawberry garden. Or rather, what I had hoped would be a strawberry garden. Perhaps I was going to pay my respects? As one visiting a grave?

While my grief did not come close to rivaling that of most other deaths, I still felt remorse. After all, my dad had taken a lot of trouble to dig up plants for me, driving many miles to plant them in my garden. That, and I love strawberries.

When I walked throught the garden gate, contemplating what to do with that garden spot, I was met with a surprise.

Life.

Tiny, green, sprouts of life. And they were coming right up out of the death that I thought had won.

Life up out of death. Here on planet Earth.

Imagine.

This has happened before. Life suddenly springing up out of death.

I think about so many, many things in my past that I took for dead.

Once we had a dozen tomato plants that looked very, very dead. But by the end of summer, miracle of miracles, a bountiful harvest of tomatoes. Unexplainable.

And other things, too.

Oh, hello, I thought you were dead. But, no, here you are. Resurrected.

Plants.

Dreams.

Hope.

Relationships.

Resurrected.

Sometimes it seems so impossible. So very, very impossible. But then, I think of the cross.

Man.

Dead.

Buried.

God.

Resurrected.

Life.

Hope.