The lilacs will still bloom….

These are historically my favorite days. All year, I wait for the winter to shake the cold off little by little, listen for the birds, watch for tulips and crocuses.

I can smell the end of the chill. In the early mornings, the birds sputter, then chirp. Before I open my eyes, my mouth smiles, and I sigh. Knowing the days are slowly elongating generates anticipation inside of me. 

 I list off early morning activities I’ve avoided through the winter: a crisp run, a walk with my pup, hot cup of coffee, chat in the dawn with my husband, etc. Instead of sweatshirts, puffy jackets, and sweaters – I put on my shorts, long socks, and long sleeve shirt to workout. I love the feeling of Spring.

 But, of all I anticipate, I wait for the short Northwest season of Lilacs blooming.

I’ve planted and cultivated 5 small bushes in my own yard – but while I’m waiting for them to grow, I drive down the neighborhood streets where the best and oldest Lilac trees/bushes are located. They’re small green leaves are budding, and I can’t wait to see the florets of purple, and white appear. 

The best part of the Lilac is the smell. Lilacs remind me of my grandmother. I will cut bunches and bunches to place around my home. They smell like life, fresh, vibrant. They are on my mind when I walk to the ferry on my commute. I pass a vacant lot with two bushes. These are the purple and fragrant variety. 

 Well, it’s that time of year, March 14th, where I am aware Lilacs are will bloom in the near future. The bushes in my yard have green buds. The ones located in our tiny, Norwegian town do, too. Believe me, I’ve driven by them and looked from the inside of my car. 

It feels emotional to think of them freshening up the vacant spaces of our yard, the home full with all four children this Spring. The Coronavirus has played into my mind, when I let it. An essay on a flower may seem superfluous, not the justice writing I normally do, but it’s a window into the complexity of what aspects of creation are markers for hope. 

And, in the middle of social awareness, fighting for justice, and living life with my family, I need to anticipate with my bodily senses, those Lilacs which reflect beauty, and life. It’s the kind of anticipation which captures my body – as I believe God has intended beauty to do. Those viral video recordings of Italians fighting the coronavirus with song, captures me.

I don’t want to feel that sickness is the only thing traveling in the air. It isn’t. 

So, I’ve begun to wait for the Lilacs with more eagerness than most years. I want – need their smell, presence, life, beauty. Lilacs brighten, shine, reflect life.

Like every season, there are many things in the air:

Hope is in the air. 

Danger is in the air. 

Sickness is in the air.

Anticipation is in the air. 

Love is in the air.

Life is in the air.

Lilacs.