Evelyn's Magnolia

Evelyn's magnolia was so much more in bloom this year.  May 3rd is early in the season, but I think this spring has had enough days with sunshine and higher temps to coax more colour from the small tree planted in Parkview Cemetery in Waterloo.

We were gifted this tree in memory of our little girl, with us so briefly in 2019.  She would have been six years old.  

Six is so much fun.

We gather here each year on her birthday, to light a candle and take some pictures and stand still in the reality that she's not here with us but we can't forget her.  

And we can't and don't even try to make any sense of it all.  We don't pretend we're okay now, because it won't ever be okay.  We don't pretend we understand because we don't.  We don't say anything trite or comforting, because that's not what this annual gathering around the magnolia is about.

The little boys blow bubbles.  That's part of our ritual.  And that's the part that brings the balanced reminder that life is fragile but good.  That our story isn't over.

One song says:  "We will dance on streets that are golden, the glorious Bride (that's us) and the great Son of Man (that Jesus)." [David Ruis] And I believe with all my heart that Evelyn is dancing now.  And that one day she will reach out her hand and say, "Come on Gramma.  Dance with me."

But that's not this day.  On this day, we leave the magnolia and go back for birthday cake.  And tell funny stories about how hard it can be to blow up balloons, and who's going to Zachary's band concert this week, and that Gramma will come to put the little boys to bed that night, and we play a game with Timothy's Bluey cards, and talk about our plans for the cottage this summer.  

Because life keeps unfolding in meaningful, hopeful, careful, joyful and tentative ways before us.  Ways we walk gingerly, knowing what we know, and trusting Who we trust.

And before we leave we make sure to hug everyone we have.