Between Now and Then (part 4)

And Then - there’s kale

After the sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdelene and the other Mary went to see the tomb. And suddenly there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord, descending from heaven, came and rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearances like lightening, and his clothing white as snow. For fear of him the guards shook and became like dead men. But the angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples. He has been raised from the dead, and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him. This is my message for you. So they left the tomb quickly with fear and great joy, and ran to tell his disciples. Suddenly Jesus met them and said, “Greetings!” And they came to him, took hold of his feet, and worshiped him. (Matthew 28:1-8)

The movement into fall is a slow process when the weather has been mild and the frost that has arrived is not that severe. Thank goodness for carrots and beets - those root vegetables that do not let a cold snap stop them from growing and turning more and more luscious. Slowly the tomatoes came to an end. It seemed as though it was a plant by plant death until not one was left standing. And yet, while everything was dying off there were still weeds - don’t they ever stop busting into the scene!

There is a robust row of peppers along the south side of the garage - five or six plants - five or six varieties. All of the plants are still quite green but the peppers are fading - limited rewards. But then there is the cayenne pepper plant - enough peppers to spice up soup or chili well into next summer. Visitors to the house are offered cayenne peppers - please. But even with the peppers holding their own as they are lined up close to the side of the garage and in full sunlight, the yard still looks like death creeping in and calling for all the attention.

That is what death does - it demands action now. It does not go away - it keeps lurking. It makes itself known - the smell - the browning of the leaves - the bending of the most noble and vibrant looking Hostas as their leaves thin and simply call it quits. Death sits down in the middle of the last days of warm weather and gentle, fall breezes in the ubiquitous presence of brown bags brimful of leaves waiting to go to their last resting place - hopefully the city really does compost all these leaves. As a last farewell to the summers growth that has given its all and the remains of those that made it through the kitchen - the compost bins are unloaded and mixed into the barren beds that need to be prepared for new life next Spring. The darkness of the compost added to the beds that have offered up so much life-giving food to the plants seems to make a statement as to how important it is to recycle wastes for life that is still to come. And then - there’s kale.

I have given kale to visitors. I have taken bags to the church - well after the veggie give-away there. I have delivered bags to friends and relatives who relish the huge bags that seem to have no weight to them. Kale - long after death has its way with the whole yard - even the crabgrass - thrives. I find it odd that even our hungry urban deer - that wander through our streets before sunrise cutting short the lives of other plants - do not take down the kale. In the middle of all this autumnal death, the kale stands tall like mini-palm trees - verdant and robust and laughing at the colder and darker days of fall. I offered kale to two men working on our driveway. They said they wondered what those plants were and how they were still so full of life. 

There is no shortage of death pushing its way into our lives. And then - there is kale. No matter how dead the day feels - no matter how much death is able to cut us down - no matter how often it seems as though we are pushed beyond the realm of hopefulness - there is new life that continues in the face of death. I love seeing those stand-alone kale plants. They are naked to the wind and frost yet they will not let those forces control the day. In the face of death - ha - brilliant life. When death appears with its pall of brownies and brightly colored leaves that amaze us only to turn brown - there is the possibility of defiance. Not warfare - not battles unto death - but defiance. If death persists - so will life persist. Some day the kale will be gone - but for now it keeps surprising everyone. 

We are blessed to be a people who thrive even when death attempts to rule us. When that kale has given up all it has and is a stump with wilted leaves sticking out of the ground like a middle finger in the face of death - I am reminded that between now and then each of us has life to offer - despite all evidence to the contrary. Therefore, in this day - in the midst of the ordinary time of life that too often seems to take life from us - we are invited to make a statement for life again and again and again. We are invited to be a witness that death finds troublesome and uncontrollable. 

I’m not quite sure when the kale will come to an end. I do know that between now and then - there will be kale for any and all who want it. The garden that looks like death rules is really the food for life that continues to grow. I like that. I need that. I want to have a life that faces death yet keeps bringing life to the world. The garden that surrounded the tomb was full of death - at least it was if that is what you expected to see. But then there is always the surprising ways death is made the fool and life persists for another day. 

TRRR