SIGNS OF LIFE

We went to see Noah last night (which could be the start of an entirely different kind of essay, but I'll refrain).  I'd hate to ruin it for you, but they do survive and wind up in a world that is regrowing after the greatest catastrophe in history.  The hills that were sweepingly portrayed in the final shot were jubilantly green and lush with the promise of a new and better future.  The world after the flood looked like paradise reborn through the pain that inevitably comes with birth.

With my tendency toward mental hyperbole, I immediately began drawing parallels between Noah's new world and the much smaller plot of the world that is visible from my own windows.  In the darkest moments of the winter, I did feel like I had been locked inside an enormous stronghold while everything that I had ever known was obliterated; I was waiting for the end so that I could start over.

And now it seems that I have emerged, and there is new life outside.  I planted bulbs in the front yard yesterday in the midst of a wind that did not turn my extremities to ice, and afterwards I went for a walk to see what I could see in this brave new springtime world.  But the most celebrated discovery was in the small side garden by our own home - sharp green shoots that foretell flowers whose existence I had not suspected.

I opened the windows in the afternoon!  Can you imagine throwing open the windows of the ark and finally feeling the wind?  I should not presume to think that my feelings are comparable, but there was much joy in this old house when I could hear the rustling sounds from outside.

Like an olive branch in a world destroyed - how good it is to see signs of life!