Across from the only gas station in town it stands.
Barely.
Worn, weathered and weary. It's an eyesore to passerby. Old, abandoned, dilapidated. Trellis broken. Pillars stained. Windows cracked. Everything about this tumbledown home is unappealing except...
On one side of the structure--amidst all the weeds, briars, vines, limbs, bushes and debris---is a patch of azaleas. The most beautiful pink blooms you have ever seen. A juxtaposition of beauty amidst squalor.
It's a reminder to those who view the property with disgust that it wasn't always a demolitionist's dream. Once upon a time it was a place of love, beauty and care. Someone painstakingly planted those azaleas on bended knee. They tended them, admired them and cherished them. Gentle hands no longer prune, pluck or primp. The owners have since passed like the seasons. Cobwebs fill halls and rooms ransacked by strangers. The only residents are mice. Everything about the place screams 'forsaken', yet flowers bloom despite all.
Spring has come and with it breathes new life weeds cannot choke silent.
Hope's reborn.
I know this place well. I strolled porch steps in Mary Janes and high heels. I swayed in that rusty swing. I roasted pecans culled from backyard limbs. It was my paternal grandparents' home. It's where I gulped the sweetest tea, gnawed the saltiest ham and satiated hunger pangs with boiled peanuts. It's where my grandma quilted, sewed and knitted. Where her fingertips tap danced across piano keys and wrapped around my heart. It's where my grandpa, who died before I was born, practiced his sermons. It's where I played Scrabble and tried couscous for the first time. It's where my father lived at 69, surrounded by wall-to-wall books, his only prized possessions. It's where we once shared a 12-hour phone conversation. It's where I slept. It's where I stepped into a porcelain tub. It's where I walked creaky floors. It's where my grandpa and father took their last breaths.
It's where my grandma tended garden.
This home may be forsaken, but never forgotten.
Those beautiful pink azaleas are like my grandmother's voice whispering hope to me: Never give up. Persevere. Despite life's ugliness...beauty and love transcend all.
Before we know it life can fall apart at the seams. Heartache can strip away our joy like peeling paint. Sin and sorrow can engulf our heart and mind like twisting weeds and vines, depriving our spirit of nourishment and life. Will we plow through trials, tragedies and turmoil to triumph against the odds? Will we sink in muck and mire and boldly stand our ground, flourish and thrive despite our surroundings? Will we be overtaken or overcome? Will we uproot evil with good?
Easter is a reminder that God's love is boundless. It even trumped the grave.
Let beautiful azaleas also remind us love and beauty are more powerful than all the depravation of the world. Amidst the sin, darkness and evil lurking to pull us under and do us in...love, hope and joy must always persevere and overcome.
Let Christ restore, transform and resurrect the broken, forsaken and lifeless. Spring has arrived. He is Spring. He redeems the dead.
Let the flowers bloom.
"Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every
circumstance. Three things will last forever—faith, hope, and love—and the greatest of these is love."
1 Corinthians 13
“For the grace of God has appeared that offers salvation to all people. It teaches us to say “No” to ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright and godly lives in this present age, while we wait for the blessed hope—the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us to redeem us from all wickedness and to purify for himself a people that are his very own, eager to do what is good.” Titus 2:11-14
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