One Fine Spring Day

My felt well enough to go golfing today with his best friend. I offered to join them, but that didn’t pan out. Go figure.

My 19-year-old son joined his fraternity brothers poolside, most likely with bikini-clad sorority sisters nearby. The kids roam in herds these days, sporting their spring break tans and counting the days until the semester ends.

As for me? I just spent the past hour with my binoculars zoomed in on a dogwood branch in my backyard, where the cutest chickadee in the world decided to hang out for the afternoon. The little bird comes and goes, but spends lots of time perched in the tree, sharpening its beak and eyeing with suspicion a neighboring titmouse perched farther down the branch.  

It is, indeed, one fine spring day.

I can’t remember when I enjoyed a gentle breeze and bright blue sky as much as today. Pollen residue and tree blossoms still coat my deck, but the air is finally clear. Oh, I know the invisible pollen is still here. But the breezes bring the fresh, sheets-on-the-clothesline kind of air that reminds you of a time in your youth when the afternoon lasted forever and the biggest responsibility awaiting you was cleaning your plate at dinner time.

New foliage unfurls by the minute, made florescent by the bright sun. Is “spring green” a crayon color? It should be. In the coming days and weeks, the leaves will turn a much more dull green, exposed to the elements over time. But today they are luminous. Set in motion by the breeze, their shadows dance across my deck and taunt me with their youthful spirit. They flutter a song, singing to me that renewal is promised to those who are patient.

Patience is not an easy virtue these days. Our society values anything that offers speed. Working parents mutate into wind-up dolls, getting through each day with lots of caffeine and no time for anything outside their immediate boundaries.

And for those of us who do try to keep up, life outside our immediate boundaries is difficult to understand. , the shooting of an unarmed youth, the call for mob justice and disregard for due process that surrounds the now infamous Sanford, FL, case. And the haunting, lingering images of the and her murderer in Canton. (You are still free to hate , but remember that he was a mother’s son.)

I do not know why these tragic images flood my mind on this fine spring day. Perhaps contemplation of the mystery of suffering and the human condition amplify my appreciation of a peaceful afternoon.

Years ago, the writings of the brilliant C.S. Lewis helped me understand the relationship between pain and happiness. And other writers have further convinced me that evil can’t be considered evil if we don’t have a standard of “good.”

Most days, my contemplation of pain, happiness, good and evil takes place on a theoretical level. My previous career in academia conditioned me to consider these matters with the mind, not the heart. But after my husband was diagnosed with late stage cancer, the problem of pain and suffering hit home and these days I tend to view life – both inside and outside of the boundaries – with a different lens.  

R.C. Sproul relays the tale of his friend undergoing chemotherapy. When he asked how her faith was holding up as she dealt with side effects, his friend replied “R.C., it is hard to be a Christian with your head in the toilet.”

Yes, faith and hope are difficult to sustain amidst pain and suffering. But faith and hope see us through. Faith and hope are what compel us to turn to something outside of ourselves for comfort and guidance.

And so, on this fine spring day I suppose the greens are greener and the breezes are sweeter because I know the look and smell of more difficult days. I know that my life, and the lives of my friends and neighbors, will always be vulnerable to the uglier hues of this world. Thus, our happiness rests upon our ability to recognize and bask in the signs of hope and renewal. And to do so with patience.

Sometimes, a tiny chickadee is all that is needed to remind me of the beauty and the good.