Ethan’s Mom: Two years ago today (March 15th), I buried my son.

There have been so many hard memories floating to the front of my mind this week. Many of them are of dark and terrifying moments. A few from today were moments of grace and beauty in the midst of extreme tragedy. The day of the funeral dawned bright and clear. It was an unseasonably cold day but the sun was shining brightly, and I was so grateful it wasn’t raining or gloomy as it had been the preceding days.

Today was another sunny March day, only it was about 20 degrees warmer. It was a great day to be out in the backyard, and the kids and I ended up doing a spur of the moment gardening project. I have been fascinated by gardens ever since two special friends from church made an “Ethan Garden” for us. They took an overgrown, messy garden bed in our backyard and transformed it into an abstract heart shaped area that includes the hydrangea and calla lilies that our parents sent to the funeral home. Last fall, I made my first attempt at growing something back there, and a few weeks ago, sunny yellow daffodils started peeking out from around the perimeter. I look out the back windows countless times a day to gaze at my cheery buttercups.

Today was less about the anticipated results and more about the act of digging, clearing, and planting connecting me to the bigger picture. I don’t know what kind of blooms we will see from the wildflower mix purchased from the dollar store, but I know preparing the soil and planting the seeds was what my heart needed to do today.

The three bigger kids helped me clear out and till up a patch of earth back under their little treehouse platform. We dug and pulled weeds but we also found a few “creatures” as my daughter kept calling them. We sprinkled seeds and talked about how they would grow into flowers. We watered them in while talking about what kind of butterflies we might see, as the box assured us that the included flowers are favorites among butterflies.

The daffodils and the wildflower seeds brought to mind this sweet hymn that I learned in college. Who knew the words would become so meaningful to me almost 20 years later?

In the bulb there is a flower;
in the seed, an apple tree;
in cocoons, a hidden promise:
butterflies will soon be free!
In the cold and snow of winter
there’s a spring that waits to be,
unrevealed until its season,
something God alone can see.

There’s a song in every silence,
seeking word and melody;
there’s a dawn in every darkness
bringing hope to you and me.
From the past will come the future;
what it holds, a mystery,
unrevealed until its season,
something God alone can see.

In our end is our beginning;
in our time, infinity;
in our doubt there is believing;
in our life, eternity.
In our death, a resurrection;
at the last, a victory,
unrevealed until its season,
something God alone can see.
(Hymn of Promise, Natalie Sleeth)

Gardens are places where the veil is thin, and we can see beautiful imagery of incomprehensible truths. When you start seeing signs of new life burst forth this spring, I hope you will join me in marveling at nature’s foreshadowing of the coming joy when “up from the earth, the dead will rise like spring trees clothed in petals of white…and we will always be, always be, always be with the Lord.” (Remember Me, Andrew Peterson)

Come Lord Jesus.