When the Daffodils are Gone

St. Michael’s Vicarage
Alnwick

Dear People of Alnwick,

Easter was so late this year that our magnificent display of daffodils in the churchyard was well past its best even before Palm Sunday. So, rather than having a somewhat ‘wilted’ greeting awaiting Easter worshippers and visitors, some very kind-hearted people spent what must have been a considerable length of time removing all the flower heads along the gravel path, and leaving the simple long green leaves as a sign of continuing life.

And this struck me as being particularly symbolic. There is, I think, a lesson for us to learn from this in these early post-Easter days.

Yes, in the days after Easter we will be reminded of the post-resurrection appearances Jesus made to a selected number of his disciples: to Mary Magdalene in the Garden; on the road to Emmaus; in the Upper Room; beside the sea and suchlike – but, for the vast majority of folk, the seeming ‘absence’ of Jesus was something they simply had to live with.

Apart from those few who were fortunate to see Jesus in the days after his resurrection everyone else was in the same position as Christians down the ages have been ever since. All of us have had to try – and must continue trying – to understand the presence of Jesus in his (physical) absence.

Some may see that task as a huge burden – and yet it can be a freedom too. A freedom which gives us the courage to view life in a new way.

That freedom opens our eyes to the new creation and our ears to its resurrection song. It is the answer to the transience of daffodils and to life’s passing shadow: for, even at the grave, we sing ‘alleluia’!

In these days and weeks after Easter we have begun to cross over into a great new Beginning: Easter’s glorious springtime that will never end.

Even with the bright yellow of the daffodils removed, Easter remains the truth by which we live and die – and live again!

In the light of these thoughts perhaps you might like to reflect on these words from the writings of Arthur Tessimond for they are full of Easter hope.

One day people will touch and talk, perhaps easily,
And loving be natural as breathing
and warm as sunlight,
And people will untie themselves,
as string is unknotted,
Unfold and yawn and stretch
and spread their fingers,
Unfurl, uncurl like seaweed
returned to the sea,
And work will be simple and swift
as a seagull flying,
And play will be casual and quiet
as a seagull settling,
And the clocks will stop,
and no one will wonder
or care or notice,
And people will smile without reason,
even in winter, even in the rain.

Even, perhaps, when the daffodils are gone.

With every blessing,

Paul.

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