Hello God. It's me, Mara

You know, Lord, Memorial Day is around the corner.  Long ago, most folks called that day Decoration Day. Finding a long-forgotten poem, memories of times of yore crossed our mind; sometimes our family did nearly the very same thing. Mom didn’t use fruit jars, but we’d bundle up garden and/or prairie flowers to decorate family graves. Poem of Lilacs and Fruit Jars follows. The author is unknown. 

“T’was almost Decoration Day, foll’wing a Spring so cold and gray. Where are the splendid blooms of May? There’s nothing blooming bright and gay. As usual, Mother had a clue, and knew just what it was we’d do. The lilacs are a brilliant hue. Run, fetch fruit jars, we’ll need a few.Year after year, was much the same, we gathered arms of purple flame. Her flower beds, both wild and tame, had only bugs which was a shame.

“The old Churchyard on hill quite bare was where our Mother knelt in prayer. A fruit jar full of blooms so fair, we placed on graves most everywhere. No strangers here, we knew them well. These pioneers had tales to tell. Fruit jar of blooms for Grandma Belle, and for her babe, wee little Nell. Find marking stone for our Grandpa, we’d brush it clean of winter’s flaw. Set lilacs in a bed of straw, remembering our dear Grandpa.

“Another town, more stones that mark, was here we heard the Meadowlark! Lilac perfume brings back that park. We’d ‘decorate’ till it grew dark. The ancestors who broke the trail, some tough old blades and some quite frail. Do we cherish or do we fail to pay homage, sharing their tale, with lilacs in fruit jars (or pails)?”

Thank You, Lord, as we delight in Your lovely seasons. We read in Psalm 119:18: “Open my eyes that I may see wonderful things in Your law.”

Love, Mara