Spring Letter
Spring has come to Sanctuary - here, in the middle of the country, earth and sky are constantly in flux. Change comes abruptly and on the edge of great gusts of wind. On one day, a south wind may be blowing with full force sending clouds northward at a tremendous rate of speed. Then somewhere between sundown and sunrise, the winds will turn and on the new day will return with ferocity from the north. This air carries on it the remnants of ice and snowfields and it has a merciless feel to it. On one of those windy days, we watched the tidy V ‘s of long chains of snow geese collapse into disarray as they tried valiantly to get on with their northward migration. Then the quieter, sun-filled, beautiful mornings arrive, and the meadowlark’s song can be heard from the fields across the road to the east. One can feel a sense of urgency as unseen creatures begin their plans for this year’s new families.
Plants are ever pragmatic. Each season comes with its variables. If water, sun, and warm temperatures are present, the land breaks into life and color and the whole of Sanctuary becomes a garden. If there is no moisture, and if the air remains cold and dreary, everything waits. Sometimes plants and trees are led by beautiful days to believe that it is time to put out their buds, and they do so only to have a freeze come to end the beginning. But always, in some form, life comes and the land is renewed again. This spring as I walk down across the bridge over the wetland stream at the bottom of the hill green grass is underfoot and beginning to show up from under the winter’s tan. It appears, that for now, the season has given the “grow” signal.
When February came, we made several trips out of town. The first was Charles’ organ recital in Peoria, Illinois at the large downtown Lutheran church. We were delighted and surprised at Peoria – it is an old, old city on the Illinois River. We learned that it sent a delegation to George Washington’s presidential inauguration, and we stood on the very spot where Lincoln and Douglas squared off for their famous debate. There are a large number of great churches built in the European style standing quite close to one another near the old downtown. As in many of our American cities and towns, the real action has moved out and out. A good number of miles away, to the west, the newest and largest shopping center stood out on the plains. Earthmovers and raw strips of land were in evidence all around as new housing developments were springing up everywhere. Those grand old churches are standing in greater loneliness all the time. The recital was a very happy and satisfying event and we returned to Nebraska refreshed.
Later in the month we went to Florida’s “First Coast” as they call that northeastern part of the state. The beaches are endless stretches of white sand and we stayed at a hotel right on the edge of the ocean. We dined on a balcony overlooking the waters and we slept with the doors open to the wonderful sounds of waves and tides. We drove inland to see St. Augustine, the oldest city in the United States, and this we found to be a well-preserved Disneyland type experience. The old part of the city is totally dedicated to the tourism industry – so though we enjoyed touching history, we concluded that oceans and beaches are more dynamic and exciting.
For the rest of the time when everything and everyone here grows tired of winter, we began our search for “The Piano”. Since moving to Sanctuary, we have not had a non-electronic instrument to play, and we determined that now the time is right. We are looking at the largest upright of Steinway, etc., because we anticipate its dulcet sounds must accompany us to “the home” and beyond. So far our search has taken us to Omaha and Kansas City – we anticipate trips to Chicago and Denver and perhaps to New York to the Steinway factory. We hope to have this wonderful instrument in place for Christmas.
Last week, we went to an organ recital given by Felix Hell, a wunderkindt organist from Germany who is now coming out of life as a chld prodigy and moving forward as a professional recitalist on a worldwide stage. At 19, he has incredible agility of hands and feet coupled with the wonderful ability to communicate his music making to the audience. His Bach presented each line in a way that beauty and clarity of theme and melody were right there for everyone to hear and enjoy. His presentation of the humungeous Reger work, the “Fantasy and Fugue on B A C H” was indescribable. At times the writing seems almost angry because it is so full of crashes and runs and sound. . . as though Reger can’t find enough ways to honor the great musical output of his selected subject. Within our culture today where music is a dense unending stream of available aural experiences, to hear music that is so grand and so accessible at the same time is a wonderful thing. If you have a chance to hear Felix Hell perform, I’d say, “Go! Enjoy!”
The end of March brings the moments of contemplation of “another winter gone.” We say, “Not a bad one,” except this year, the final weeks of the season were accompanied by the nastiest cold germ to enter our realm for quite some time. At least 90% of the people in the community have either had it, are having it or will get it. It is made evident to all by the hoarseness of the voice that speaks – at times we were in places in which no voice was exempt. Then there is the coughing. From messy sounding sneezes to great honks, it punctuates every public gathering. My offerings were the chest driven hollow coughs that brought to mind photos of miners coming out of terrible black pits with lungs covered in black powder. Charles, through sheer will power limited his coughing to a more generalized wheeze “throat is tickling” sound. We have been attending the many concerts that occur each spring before Easter arrives and we are very aware of the hateful cough that rises up out of the audience just as the fourth single note of a sensitive passage is sounding quietly. We have curled our lips in displeasure at such sounds enough times to realize we really should avoid being out there and doing it too. Unfortunately, in spite of our efforts we have contributed some notable honks and snorts as well. Charles finally armed himself with cough drops. Sitting there with several in hand, he would suddenly seize up with a look of near strangulation, and instantly pop in the cough drop in order to avoid the dreaded cough, cough. I would watch and think, “Oh no! Now I have to cough!” and by the time I had held my breath and grasped my throat to beat back the unwelcome sound, the quiet passages would be completed and it wouldn’t be so bad.
Now it is Holy Week. In our church, as in many, it began with the Palm Procession of children. I often wonder how the contemporary child sorts out all these things because on this Sunday they are given the palm branches and asked to process into church, surely a different and special occasion. They are encouraged to wave their palms and shout Hosanna!, a church word not heard in any other setting. Then the children return on Easter Sunday morning dressed up in special dresses and pants and new shoes clutching plush Easter bunnies and eating chocolate Easter eggs. Everyone sings “I Know That My Redeemer Lives!” with trumpets and timpani and grandparents come to dinner after church bearing more Easter gifts. Ham is eaten and life goes on.
This is the best part – life does go on and the new leaves of spring coming through the dead branches of winter remind us each season of that miracle, When Christ walked out of the tomb after his dying and death he carried with him the gift of eternity for all of us.
We hope this springtime and this Easter season is one of refreshment and growth, both in your inner spaces and in the outer places that you inhabit. To Springtime! To life! Happy Easter!
