The Abundant Life truck was here yesterday to make a delivery; I’m not sure yet whether that’ll see us through All Saints’ Day and beyond.
From the name, would you know that the place sells wood, gas and pellet stoves? Yes, indeed…and they boast the “lowest prices and the largest display” in all of New Hampshire, too. The guy waiting on us there a couple of weeks ago confirmed that the original owner was actively Christian; apparently he liked the idea of his religion and his business commingling. When I saw the sign, I couldn’t help but think that a white dove like that probably would want to keep its distance from the soot and smoke, but I guess this particular dove could really take care of itself.
Really only now, seeing the stove nestled in our fireplace, do I recognize how we’re all about to take up arms and fend off the darkness and cold yet again.With Halloween and All Saints’ Day, we try to look death straight in the eye, to give it, and those it has claimed, due respect. There’s no point ignoring it, after all; that would be just singing into the wind. We all know where we’re headed. On the other hand, we don’t want to dwell on it, either, give it too much space, make ghoulish concoctions all year long.
When I was out cleaning up the vegetable beds yesterday, the sodden smell of decay surrounded me. Tomatoes were still spilling out from our very generous plants, but most were bruised now and asking for removal; it was clear that the green ones weren’t going to come to fruition. Besides, predictions of plunging temperatures made this a sensible activity. Game over.
Only thing was, my dog Rocky made sure to remind me that his game was far from over. Whenever I oblige him by throwing a tennis ball (in duplicate, to allow for lengthy gnawing and also misplacement) for a while before getting down to outdoor work, he sees no reason why this should stop his fun. He persists in dropping his chosen ball right where he thinks I’ll best see it— in the
wheelbarrow, where it sinks deep, perhaps relieved for the break from saliva. Then he looks at me as if his life depended upon my immediate action. Apparently, he doesn’t understand much about camouflage, because that green sphere really knows how to disappear in there. What I’m left with, though, is the sheer urgency, the utter vitality of his wish.
Let the plants go; keep the dog, with his eyes riveted on their goal.
All around the fields now, the bright hues are on their way out and various shades of brown take over. I can bear this better now, though, thanks to a new bunch of students bringing in a whole new palette of colors to my life. In addition to one class of young people who are just starting college, I get to teach another class—an evening one—of adults who have experienced a lot and are ready to put their minds to work by writing a number of essays and, oh yes, getting the course credit they need. Five people have recently emerged from some branch of the military; some have children; some travel for hours to get to class; some are between jobs. When I first met them in the classroom last week, they were all sitting apart from one another— nobody knew anybody else. By the end of the two and half hour session, though, after some lively conversations in pairs followed by introductions to the whole group, a palpable warmth settled over the room. We were in this together, past bruises and all; we were planning on making the most of it, and laughing a lot in the process, too. Truly, I could have put one of those “Abundant Life” signs right on the front podium. Or, for more natural color, a big picture of the leaves the way they are still managing to be.
I left that first evening, and the next one too, feeling fortunate just to be able to spend time with these individuals, and hopeful that—if I summon much of what I have learned in past classrooms– I’ll be worthy of the significant responsibility given to me. So, to all natural forces of decay, darkness, and demise out there, I say, “Go ahead, do the inevitable, if you must! My time will come soon enough, too; but for now, I’m going to bring in those last tomatoes, make some sauce, go back out and find those tennis balls again, and try to pay attention to signs of life all around. In a November kind of way.”