As I step outside on this spring day, my eye catches the transforming landscape across the way.
For as long as my family has resided next door to Ray, the small strip of land between our driveways has given witness to the hand of our Creator. On Summer days, my first glance captured the vibrant multicolored blooms lining my black tarred driveway. Further up the strip, tomato plants, zucchini, cucumbers and giant sunflowers towered over anyone standing in their midst. Often our home was blessed with portions of this majestic bounty.
Ironically, as the fruit blossomed, his health withered. In the last five years, the strip of beauty gradually shrunk to a small rectangle. Patches of Earth spawning bits of grass spread where blossoms once lived. But not on the whole piece of land. Despite Ray’s fragile health, his passion for producing a bountiful harvest remained. His adult children now took on his role.
Once again, the symbols of Spring emerge. Traditionally, speaking, planting activity along his side of the driveway should be visible. But it isn’t. A few weeks ago. Ray died.
Much will change this summer. The blooms and the outdoor conversations will cease between us.I have written previously about those unfiltered moments between he and I. Ray resisted the longing arms of his Creator. Yet, God’s voice continued to speak-through the colorful display of nature dotting the land between our homes-and through neighbors. I’m not sure what decision Ray made at the end. We will never know.
Though death has occurred, God’s hand is still working.
Today, there is new movement across the way. Yes, the evidence of death lies blatant. His voice no longer calls to me as I venture out to get the mail in my bare feet; an act for which he would chastise me. “You need to tell your husband to buy you some shoes,” he would say with a slight smile. His blue chair in the driveway appears lonely. But the ceasing of one rhythm in my life has given way to a new one.
Laughter, the aroma of bbq, footsteps, and machinery compose the new beats. An audio soundtrack accompanies the visual changes. His son and grandson inhabit Ray’s home now; moving forward in steps of restoration and healing. The deterioration of health coincided with the deterioration of his home. Although his son, lived there, Ray resisted any transformation of his home. I suppose whatever bits of feisty independence remained were reaching to exert control.
Now, a beautiful new landscape develops. Outside, large machinery reshapes overgrown, dried, brush. New colors and textures emerge on a three dimensional canvas. One which flows inside as well. Fresh coats of paint bring life back into these old walls. Broken begins the journey to restoration. Both in things and in relationships.
As I gaze out my window this morning, I watch a neighbor transport tree trunk sections on a dolly across the street to his home. Until yesterday, the trunk, rooted in the ground, supported death. Life had ceased in the body attached to it. What will become of it now?
And then my mind made the connection: The hands of my neighbor, a skilled sculptor, will carve into the wood. Beauty lies beneath; anticipating it’s birth.
Tomatoes and blooms yield to new. different. hopeful.
“Be alert, be present. I’m about to do something brand-new.
It’s bursting out! Don’t you see it?” (Isaiah 43:19).
The master hand of the Creator is at work. That which is created takes new forms. The process is not yet complete. But what a privilege it is to watch it unfold.