A Compost of the Spirit

May 17, 2009

A compost of the spirit

I am not really a great gardener, but as weird as this may sound, I do love to make compost out of table scraps and yard waste.  Especially here in semi-arid, red clay dirt Colorado, there is something oddly refreshing about mixing up organic material, periodically stirring it as it “cooks”, and seeing rich, black compost dirt created over months.  (Perhaps it also takes me back to my childhood roots in Nebraska when I would play with friends at their farms and spend hours running around fields of rich soil and corn stalks – I don’t know why; I just like it.)

This predilection came up this morning as Carol spooned cantaloupe seeds and the accompanying goop into the compost bucket on the kitchen counter that I periodically add to the composter in the backyard, and I commented on how much I enjoy the whole process. 

Carol responded immediately that we are living in a composter of sorts as we continue to deal with Daniel’s death and the ensuing grief.  Perhaps these experiences are beginning to bring forth some new things in our lives that will be richer and more full of nutrients than we expected and than we experienced beforehand.

The New Testament is full of literal and figurative death and resurrection language, “dying to self” and being “born again” or born anew.  Some of these concepts are overused in Christian talk and at least in my experience, we often don’t acknowledge how painful the death and decomposition process really is.

For a compost of the spirit to ripen, a lot of stuff has to get mixed up, broken down/decomposed, and literally “cooked” into some new form. 

I don’t really know what this mix is in our family’s life or in our individual lives right now, but I hope and pray that God is working our composted lives in such a way that the results will bring new life to us and to those we love.

 

May 10, 2009

52 weeks

Every anniversary seems to evoke a slightly different angle or set of emotions.

52 weeks ago yesterday was Daniel’s memorial service in Denver. This weekend last year, our house was full of family and friends from everywhere. The service itself was absolutely amazing – more people came than we could have imagined and the beauty and power of the service itself were stunning. People continue to randomly comment on what an impact it had on them and how unforgettable it was. God was certainly present in that service and“glorified”, to use a somewhat obscure phrase that, in my opinion, is often bantered about too much in the Christian community.

Carol commented yesterday that each anniversary that comes and goes brings something different with it. At times, the emotions now feel just as raw and overwhelming as they did a year ago. We are still stunned by our loss, by the fact that Daniel is physically gone from this earth and that we are left with such a deep and abiding sense of sadness as a result. Yet, remembering the memorial service also brings back a feeling of gratitude that we are loved and cared for by so many, and that so many folks wanted to be present with us in that sanctuary and witness that event.

In a weird way, I wish I could re-live the service, move around the sanctuary and literally take it in from many angles. I have listened to the spoken part of the service on CD a couple times and will likely do so again. Those words somehow give me some measure of peace and courage to keep plodding along this treacherous path.