04.13.2026 | Monday in Eastertide

Let Us Begin with Lettuce
 
The lettuce starts are tucked safely in the cold frame. I’m still not convinced we won’t get one more frigid night before the month is over, so I’m hedging my bets and letting them stay there a little longer. The onion sets are in too. They’re hardy enough that I don’t worry about them. Most of the beds are cleaned out and refreshed with compost. Spring is definitely springing in the garden.
 
Let us begin. The gardening never really stops, but this is the moment when everything shifts into high gear. Seedlings in various stages. Beds ready for planting. Mulch waiting in the wings. After a long, cold winter, I’m eager to see the garden in full bloom again.
 
And yet, even as Spring does what Spring does, even as pollen coats the sidewalks and life returns to the garden, it can be hard to feel the joy of abundance when the world feels heavy with anger, terror, and grief. I keep praying. I keep praying. I keep praying. Hope is still here. Easter keeps whispering that even in the darkest hour, joy comes in the morning. A new day. A resurrection. A reminder that when evil feels ever present, it is never the final word.
 
This week I found myself thinking about my friend Thomas. We know him as doubting Thomas, though I imagine he would roll his eyes at the nickname. The truth is that he is me. I would be the one who needs to see. The one who needs to touch. The one who says, “Show me.” And when he finally sees the risen Christ, everything shifts. Hope restored. Faith renewed. Love is revealed as the steady thing that never left. It reminds me of the ancient promise: “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” We see the flowers bloom with our own eyes, and something in us believes again.
 
Let us begin. Begin again. Renew me. Come Holy Spirit and renew the face of the earth.