I lifted the dirt filled tray out from beneath the radiator in the kitchen. I pulled back the plastic wrap that had turned it into a mini greenhouse. I gasped. The salvia had sprouted.
It was just days after the World Health Organization declared the pandemic when the tiny threads of green popped out. A week earlier, when the country was commencing its collapse under coronavirus, I’d sought solace in purchasing potting soil instead of toilet paper.
Each morning I say hello to my seedlings. I eagerly examine them. I gently water them from the cheerful can that once held Tropical Cherry Sparkling Water.
Connecting with nature. Focusing on what is in front of me. Doing what I can. Each small act that is within my control helps me feel less out of control about so many questions.
Will Jan be able to continue her chemotherapy at the medical center?
Will Benjamin in Brooklyn be safe in his small co-living space?
Will Lori on the coast get to have her Nebraska spring wedding?
With the recession now a reality, I recall moments of 2008. I sat sorting the bills—then still arriving on paper—into stacks. Delay these by 30 days. These by 60. These I must call forth courage to have a courageous conversation.
My family and the law firm made it through that winter. And then spring came, just as it always had. It came that year and the next and the next. By 2011 we were having our best year yet.
More winters would come. More darkness and disappointment. But spring. Spring has never failed me.
I study my sweet salvia each day as a harbinger of hope. And as sure as the salvia would sprout, spring arrived today. Seasons come and go. I have not just hope but plenty of faith that I can count on spring and other new seasons to return again.
What small acts ground you in a time of uncertainty?
What signs of hope do you see?
What can you be sure of when life is unpredictable?