I was to be in Nova Scotia, Newfoundland, Ontario, Alberta and British Columbia in May and June for conventions. I was planning to attend provincial conventions in Greenwood to be with my Military Ordinariate sisters, followed by St. John’s, Lac La Biche and Vernon. Within that time frame, there was to be a three-day intense program organized by the Presbyterian Women’s Missionary Society in Toronto.
COVID-19 prevented these events from occurring, as well as all diocesan and provincial conventions, and the national convention that was to celebrate the League’s centenary. I have just learned Lac La Biche has experienced severe flooding; the provincial convention may have required cancellation regardless. With the guidance of the Holy Spirit, discerning what is right and acting on it takes a great deal of time and reflection. The right decisions were made to cancel the 2020 gatherings for the protection of all, but one wonders “why” this occurred at this time in history. I will miss being with my sisters, but God does have a plan.
Time is being filled quite easily. The fine weather most of Canada has been experiencing has meant vegetable gardens could be planned and planted once the final frost warning had passed. In New Brunswick, that was just this week. Alas for me, most other places I believe already have beans, peas and greens popping up. My seeds will hopefully be spared from the birds and provide some vegetables in late July. My father would probably be rolling over if he saw what little harvest I have received from my efforts, even though I grew up on a farm where my job was to weed and harvest. I do not think I was educated well enough on the machinations of gardening, though I am sure the very rich soil on the farm was the secret. I keep trying to enrich my cottage garden soil and trying to find the place in my yard with the greatest number of hours of sunlight, so maybe this year, I will have a bigger harvest. If I had to survive with what I grow, I would starve, I am sure. My father would be shaking his head.
Rhubarb, on the other hand, is a constant in the spring. It just appears, unaided by any “TLC.” I am unaware of the provenance of this fruit that is technically a vegetable, but cannot get enough of it while it is in season. This little insignificant plant is a great metaphor for living and having faith that all will be provided, not just to survive but to flourish. I can also depend on fiddleheads and soon, strawberries, raspberries and blueberries (I admit to loving to pick cultivated strawberries rather than wild ones). I see people on the shore of Shediac Bay picking something called fire greens—apparently they are a great delicacy. Mother Nature provides such bountiful harvests. It reminds me that the seasonal harvests of my youth afforded such joy when the beans, peas and carrots were ready. Having access to most fruits and vegetables year-round dulls the sense of anticipation and true enjoyment of the simple pleasures of life. I have not even begun to note the taste of what we always called “new potatoes.”
We have good reason to say grace before we eat, simply or elaborately, at every meal, but particularly in light of the spring bounty. We are truly thankful.
Be safe. God bless you until next time…