Lilacs in the Alley

May in Minnesota is my favorite. It's finally warm enough to put the heavy winter coat away and just keep a sweater handy. Everything turns green again and then all of the sudden, the flowers pop up everywhere declaring an end to the threat of that 4-letter "s" word we're so fond of in the northland.

Today on my run was the first time this year I've seen lilac bushes opening. The tulips have been around for a while, but lilacs are the unofficial start to summer -- and they're baaaaack!

But today I noticed something I hadn't before: here in MN, we tend to grow lilacs either in the alley or along a side of our property for privacy, whereas other flowers like tulips we tend to showcase in the front yard. I'm not much of a gardener, but it struck me that this parallels with the season we're in right now. 

For many of us, our journey has been filled with relatively consistent sidewalks, front yards we're familiar with, and traffic signs to help society move without crashing. There's less risk walking on the sidewalk and if you grew up in town, you likely get just a little nervous when the sidewalk ends and you have to walk on the street for a block or two. My current neighborhood is like this -- perfectly normal sidewalk for a few blocks, and then, it just stops, only to pick up again a few blocks later. Still, I'm admittedly more comfortable walking on the street in the front yard than I am walking through someone's alley. 

Readers who have only lived in the suburbs or in rural farm lands may not know the norms of the alley, so here's the scoop: the alley is where we put our garbage; though it might be a shorter route somewhere it isn't a place people tend to walk, and it's rarely well-kept. Often it's hard to see much past the block you're on, and what you can see is.. well, not the more picture-perfect sides of the properties. It's not a place most people would want to walk at night, though the danger level definitely depends on where you live. Where I grew up, one's greatest threat to a nighttime alley walk was the neighbor's cat, out perusing the garbage cans for leftovers. Other places, the alley is where creeps and weirdos do business they don't want exposed for various reasons. Not a preferred spot in the least.

But as I was walking I was struck by the presence of lilacs IN the alley. It's some sort of cruel irony that the best smelling flowers are often next to the worst smelling items we discard from our homes. The alley houses them both.

Here's why it stood out to me: life in quarantine has been like a dark alley none of us wanted to walk down. We had our typical routes and our preferred viewpoints. But then suddenly, the sidewalk of "normal" ended. Our best way forward was down a path none of us have walked. And the experience has been a mix of very strong smells: some that are putrid, others that are sweeter than we could've ever experienced otherwise. And honestly, it's all a little overwhelming. But it's teaching us something.

We need darkness to better know light.
We need pain to help us understand what "normal" feels like.
We need tension in order to understand release or rest.
And...
We need the stink of garbage to help us smell the floral scent of fresh lilacs.

Any farmer will tell you, the best way to grow crops is to use the stinky "leftovers" from their animals to enrich the soil. The strength of the stink reflects the strength of its growing power. It's true that crops might grow without this fertilizer, but the results simply aren't the same.

The same is true in hard times.
Poop happens. Garbage happens. Dark alleys happen.

But God does not waste our suffering. We are not alone in the alley.

I don't write this to minimize legitimate suffering. Only to encourage you that what seems awful or is unjust does not go unnoticed by God and was never a surprise to Him. And while this doesn't fully explain the problem of the presence of evil, it should calm our hearts to know that we are seen, known, loved, and protected by a powerful, loving, and sovereign God who knows every inch of the alley you're in. He's the one who allows the garbage AND He's the one who grows the lilacs.

I've done a fair bit of reflecting on some of the alley moments in my life: a cancer diagnosis in my immediate family, relational struggles with close friends, break-ups, rejections, and failures. And in nearly all of them, if I think long enough and with a lens that expands past my internal pain, there is ALWAYS something beautiful I didn't see then or couldn't have known was God's provision. Allow me to elaborate:

If I hadn't experienced a couple tough break-ups, I wouldn't have learned how I deserve to be treated.
If I hadn't lost a few friends, I might take the friends I have for granted and not work for a good relationship with them.
If I hadn't known loneliness, I couldn't walk others through it.
If I'd never been so stuck that my only option was to beg God to come through, I wouldn't know His power to move more in a minute than I could in my lifetime.
Because my Mom had cancer and was granted healing, we don't take her life for granted. Our time with her is sweeter than it ever would've been because we saw first-hand how quickly that could've changed. Cancer was the alley, but even there, God gave us lilacs both in the moment and much later. I could tell you countless stories from the Summer of 2009 where God continually reminded me that He is near, He is in control, and that it's not up to me to have all the answers -- only to obey what He says when He calls.

So, if Covid has you feeling like you've somehow wandered down a dark alley, my encouragement to you is to stop and smell the lilacs. To enjoy the little things that have organically grown in this season that you otherwise wouldn't know about or have time to enjoy. This too shall pass and even if normal never looks like what we expected, we can know God will carry us through that, too.

Here are some of the beauties growing near me. :)