Return to Russo’s

Russo's sans flora

No rows of marigolds. No Christmas trees. No potted mums or mandevilla vines. No starter tomato plants and rows of herbs. Just a quiet space filled with pristine snow greets the masses of pilgrims who make their way to the hallowed aisles of Russo’s in late January. As I approach the store, the absence of plants, mulch, and manure cause me to sigh deeply in relief. It’s like an invitation to rest. Nothing needs doing. Nothing is urgent — At least in my yard.

I am brought back to a journey years ago, when I traveled to the shore of Lake Michigan in January – to the camp where I worked every summer. I walked up the path towards the lake through a foot of snow. The pine trees overhead leaned in slightly on the sand dunes, forming a cathedral overhead, just as they do in the summer. But there was silence. The familiar, beautiful sound of the waves crashing on the shore, which is a constant accompaniment to all the activity of the summer, was absent. Then, too, I experienced a full-body, full-soul restfulness hard to put into words.

Some things do need doing.  But not everything. Not now. The quiet is like medicine to my over-busy, over-loud soul, and I am thankful for it. The tulips will arrive before we know it, row upon row of them brightening the threshold of Russo’s and calling us to dig and fertilize and water.


About amymccreath

I'm a pastor and mother who loves to make connections between people, between ideas, and between stuff we label "sacred" and "secular." I aspire to be like a Cedar of Lebanon in the midst of the changes and chances of life, but like most folks, generally find that I can really only navigate the tumult hand in hand with others. Good coffee helps, too.
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1 Response to Return to Russo’s

  1. Terri says:

    Nice, this restful time in the midst of all that snow you have had. My spirit is restless too – much going on here – yoga, silent prayer, and efforts to still my inner self.

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