Old Order Mennonite Memoirs

Dear April,

Thank you for all the lovely gifts you gave to us and forgive us if we grumbled about all your chilly, cloudy days. Even though we don't usually burn wood for warmth in all your days, we did have wood to burn so we were thankful for our warm home.

Forgive us for being so unappreciative of your swirling snow in windy skies as we scrambled to protect our seedlings. Your precipitation was also in the form of life-giving rain for millions of alfalfa seeds in our fields. We are thankful for the tiny two-leafed miracles. Your rumbling thunder seemed to awaken the earth and the grass for us to mow. We weren't really complaining about the gloves we had to wear one time, only explaining.

Forgive us if we complained about your tempest winds which tossed some objects askew, requiring repair. We are thankful for our homes, which are still intact.

Thank you for the perfect day to dig up and divide my hosta plants to share with my daughters, even if your coldness kept their leaves tightly curled. Thank you for the garden-planting times, even if the wind battered us. Thank you for the lettuce which grew in my hotbed and the spinach and radishes which grew in my daughter's raised beds under row covers. It was a beginning of the garden goodness ahead.

Thank you for the happy times in my greenhouse, even as I dream of moving all the plants out of its confinement soon. Thank you for the promise, the hope of having outdoor comfort.

Thank you for the feathered songsters that came to meet you and sang in your days even as your skies cried. Thank you for the robin's glorious song in the morning and the eagle's majestic flight in the heavens. Thank you for the barn swallow's welcome swooping appearance over our garden and the coyote's unwelcome galloping gait over our fields. Thank you for the spring peepers that sang in your nights whenever you weren't too cold. Thank you for the three nests of bluebird babies that hatched from eggs, even if the fourth nest did not escape the vicious pecks of a bully house sparrow. Thank you for red lady bugs which granddaughter Bella and I discovered beside the locust tree trunk.

In your days I had health to houseclean cupboards and closets and construct comforters when your outdoors did not call me. In your days family gathered around the table to celebrate my husband's birthday, but we were not all allowed to be here. In your days we were thankful for meds for our daughter-in-law so she could heal from surgery, but we weren't allowed to visit her.

Thank you for trying to teach us patience in your days..... patience to reclaim our usual worship services in our church houses, (of which there were none) patience to see what wedding days will be like, patience to plant tomatoes and peppers and begonias, patience with face masks.

In your days I was thankful for my sweater, even though I took it off again in two minutes. Thank you for the thrilling toad songs which you gave in your last calm hours after giving us one more rainy day.

Thank you for Easter, even if we had no communion with brethren. Jesus still rose from the dead, to make a way for us. After all, April, God made you. "...........there is no power but of God: the powers that be are ordained of God" as we read in Romans 13. ".......He shall judge the people righteously and govern the nations upon earth" (Psalms 67:4).

In your days we do well "to obey magistrates..." (as in Titus 3:1)

Another has said, "The human story is the criticism of a loving God upon the selfish purposes of men."

And thank you for the little blue forget-me-nots in my garden borders. We will never forget you, April, 2020.

Good-bye.