Awakening

I’m not much of a gardener. Plants do not last long in my care. My yard, small as it is, is a hodge-podge of errant weeds, patchy grass and hearty greenery that thrives on in spite of my best efforts to ignore it into oblivion.

Every so often I forget to remember my lack of Mr. Green Jeans’s talent and take a field trip to the local nursery. I always buy way too much more than I have the ability, strength or knowledge how to plant and care for. It’s like what happens when I go the cafeteria; I see all that delicious food. It looks so pretty I order a little bit of each dish. I’ll never eat it all – what was my stomach thinking?

Same deal at the nursery. My eyes glaze at the sight of all those lustrous flowers and bedding plants. The thought of my yard as only Martha Stewart could do it is too over powering. Soon I’m up to my arm pits in soil, flowers and fresh shrubbery – which will all die a slow and unceremonious death in the weeks to come despite my best efforts to keep it all alive.

This is back breaking work – no wonder I only do it during leap years, and happily 2009 is not a leap year. I love all that beauty but I want instant gratification. Patience is required for a gardener and that I have on short supply most days.

My paternal grandmother, from whom I received my middle name, was a fierce gardener. My grandparents lived on seven wooded acres in the heart of the city and she diligently maintained the gardens of about half of them - herself, with just one wonderful helper. I cannot begin to tell you the work that was.

Every fall she planted thousands of tulip bulbs all over the property. Tulips are my favorite. They are so delicate and so beautiful. And they require the utmost skill and dedication to grow.

My grandmother would gather her bulbs months in advance of planting and store them in a refrigerator. At just the right day and time in autumn before the first frost she would plant them. And planting the little brown rock like thing is not easy. The hole has to be dug just so deep, add at little fertilizer, cover with good soil, water and wait for spring. This is back-breaking work when you are planting thousands.

But the result was amazing. Each spring my grandparents’ backyard was a showplace. Tulips of all colors and variety bursting from everywhere. Acres of them – around trees, down in ravines, in every bed and along every walkway. I can’t see one today without thinking of her – and smiling.

I tried it once – planting tulip bulbs. Disaster. About 17 years ago (the shame has prevented me from trying again) I wanted that same look and feel in the spring at my home so I asked her advice and set about my task. I bought the bulbs early – 100 bulbs to be exact. I stored them in the fridge for the requisite amount of time. I prepared my bed and soil. I dug my holes and put in nitrogen-rich fertilizer. Covered them and watered them well and cared for them all autumn and winter long.

I could not wait for Spring and the first signs of the tell-tale green shoots sprouting forth from the bed signaling the tulips were awakening. But something was wrong. Spring arrived with no tell-tale green shoots. Weeks went by and still no signs of life from the bed. Neighbor’s tulips were blooming but mine were still in hibernation.

Finally, life! One yellow tulip sprouted in the dead-center of the bed. One. Out of 100 bulbs planted, one awakened and became a tulip. Crest-fallen I dug up its sister bulbs to see the problem. It appears that I had planted the other 99 upside down. Several showed signs of life – little green shoots came out but could not make the 180-degree turn north towards the sky. Tulip bulbs are indeed expert territory.

That’s the thing I find so amazing about them. Hold one in your hands. It looks like nothing special. Just this little brown lump. It looks dead. And in fact, it is dead or rather it is dormant with its life waiting to be released. Who would ever think by looking at it that if given just the right amount of preparation, care, attention, patience and love by an expert gardener that an odd looking little nothing could grow into the most beautiful thing in the world in a matter of months?

We can learn a lot from a tulip bulb, especially at Easter. The Master Gardener has taken what was dead and made it alive again. And I think it is not coincidence that we celebrate Jesus awakening and re-birth in Spring.

What God does for the tulip bulb and what He did for His son Jesus He does for each and every one of us. We may look like a little brown lump on the outside but God sees the beautiful tulip we are on the inside.

He makes us alive again. He makes us beautiful.

Happy Easter and may God Bless you and your family.

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