Return to 2006 stories
Spring sunset at dusk
March 21, 2006
Already But Not Yet
The first full day of spring broke bright, sunny and full of promise. After a hectic day of family needs and hospital work, I turned to my barn chores, rushing to bring the horses in from their daytime paddocks as the sunset began coloring everything around us. I wanted badly to capture it for this page but chores needed to be done first. Despite my hurry, the sun was faster than I. By the time I grabbed the camera and headed to the hillside to take photos of the red flushed woods to the east as the sun set, the amber hue was barely visible as a cloak of gray dusk settled over everything. I took photos in that mere light and when I loaded them on the computer I rediscovered the light I'd lost outside. Though grainy from the darkness, the red was visible after all. The sun had seemingly already set, but not yet. I sensed the color was still lingering though I could not see it with my own eyes.
It was an "already but not yet" kind of week. Spring has already arrived if one looks at the calendar. Yet there are not the typical signs of full-fledged spring. The frogs have not begun to chorus at night, the orchard buds are staying stubbornly small, the tulip blossoms are staying tight and green, the grass is only beginning to show growth, the snow is still low in the hills.
Our mare Belinda seemed "all ready" to deliver her foal last week when we needed to be away for the farm for a couple days, so a "horse sitter" came and stayed until we returned, and but as the foal arrival time was "not yet", it was an exceedingly boring mare watch for her.
My 85 year old mother spent the week in the hospital after suffering a small stroke which affected her balance and coordination. Though not a major setback for her physically, it was a blow to her confidence and is making her feel vulnerable to future strokes, which may be worse next time. She knows, after a long relatively healthy life, she should be "all ready" for the end, but it is "not yet" her time and she will be working hard in her rehab to regain her strength, and her confidence.
I feel already in the midst of my own life transition with hormonal levels at 51 plummeting as my 13 year old daughter's are peaking. I'm most definitely in the proverbial middle of the generational sandwich--whether I'm the meat, the cheese or a condiment is not clear to me. What I do know is that I'm not yet done with this very challenging and compressed part of my life.
Already but not yet. There is tension in knowing that something profound has happened--a vanishing sunset, a vernal equinox, a life change or transition, but the transformation is not yet complete. We are unfinished business.
In a few weeks we are reminded of what is yet to come. We know the shock of the empty tomb, our hearts burning within us as more is revealed to us, and ultimately, our hope for renewal and rebirth. It is finished on our behalf. All ready.