June
‘What is so rare as a day in June? Then if ever come perfect days…’
‘Joy comes, grief goes, we know not how. Everything is happy now.’
These words, from the pen of the nineteenth century poet, James Russell Lowell, are familiar to many of us, at least of my generation. We might also remember that he wrote, ‘Not what we give, but what we share, for the gift without the giver is bare’. But unless your memory is better than mine, and it well may be, you won’t remember that the lines about June are from ‘The Vision of Sir Launfal’ which tells of the search for the Holy Grail. I enjoyed reading about King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. I often got so immersed that I couldn’t remember which book of the Bible included that story.
Today is April 20, 2020. I’m writing this for the June Grapevine. I pray that by the time you read it, my fears will have been put to rest. But right now these are not perfect days. Everything is not happy now. These are times of uncertainty, fear and dread. There is division and acrimony. Friendships are strained. We don’t have confidence in what we’re told. It’s one thing today, something else tomorrow. One day they’re looking after our health and welfare, the next they’re more concerned about the economy. People are taking sides and fighting over it. Cases of the virus seem be slowing, but there’s the fear it will come back with a vengeance. Words of the old Gospel song come to mind, ‘My hope is built on nothing less, than Jesus’ blood and righteousness. On Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand.’ We believe God cares for His children. But He gave us free-will. It is not His will that any perish, but how about the free will of those whom we elected to be in charge of our welfare. There is division. We don’t know who to believe. Is there someone, somewhere who has the answers? And are they looking after the welfare of all the people and not their self interests. Do they care about the old, the disabled, the poor, the homeless, the alien, the street person? Do I? Are all lives of equal value? What are my values?
OK, enough already! I have many precious memories of Junes past. Happy times! When we lived in the Seattle area, our Father’s Day tradition was to drive over Chinook Pass to Yakima to buy cherries. Big, beautiful, juicy Bing cherries, so dark red, they were almost black. And huge! The Pass was closed by snow in winter, but it was usually open by Father’s Day. Snow, at the summit, was far deeper than the top of our car. Anyway, the cherry pits we “planted” along the roadside over those many years should have produced a Cherry Blossom Festival unequaled anywhere in the world. Add beautiful snow covered mountains, tall evergreens, the scent of pine needles, rushing mountain streams and Father’s Day with Frank and our children. What is so rare as a day in June? Then if ever, a perfect day!
Tess Todd
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