On Lilies and Life

The Calla lilies look almost too perfect to be real. They spring up every March and April along the fence in our side yard. Planted by someone whose name I do not know, they thrive in spite of my neglect. I neither water them nor tend them. My dog pays them a little more attention. He methodically tramples them under his big goofy paws in the hottest part of summer. Then he flops down on top of their cool green leaves and sleeps all day in the shade.  Certain that they can't possibly rebound from such abuse, I watch the fence line dubiously year after year. And the lilies bounce back greener, denser, more vibrant every Spring. It defies reason, but there they are, rioting and gorgeous. They make me happy. 

Tomorrow is Easter, the culmination of another Holy Week, and I can't stop thinking of the lilies. They remind me of life and of the Life.  "Jesus said unto her, I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live:" (John 11:25) And I recognize the miracle of life that springs up again and again in my soul. When I feel thirsty or trampled down or doubtful, He pours out living water or takes my hand and raises me up or whispers hope. And I bounce back year after year, greener and more vibrant. 

Tomorrow I will sit in church and sing--hymns of wounded hands and an empty tomb and that bright morning that followed darkest night. In my mind I will picture the stone rolled away and the linens carefully folded long ago in far away Jerusalem. But mostly I will picture the lilies blooming in my own backyard--reminding me of life everlasting and eternity that begins today. Here. Now. Again.