This Christmas Kalanchoe belonged to my aunt, Mary C. Duncan, who died last summer at the age of 97. She was a woman of passion, compassion, fierce determination, curiosity and hospitality.  She wrote a poem about being a plant battered by the wind and rain but finally blossoming.  Knowing only that the plant belonged to Aunt Mary, I simply re-potted it, watered it, and watched.  Now it is blossoming.

There are shadows in the icicles
Which sparkle in the sun
And drip and keep on dripping —
Winter’s on the run.

by Mary C. Duncan, February 1996

If I should die
Let no one weep for me.
I saw the aster
Blossom after rain.
Deep blue in shining green
And clover leaf lift up
above the grass.
Grey rain
Brought bright flowers
after drought.
I drank and drank
and filled my own cup full.

By Mary C. Duncan, Summer, 1973

As Christians pause to remember Jesus’ entrance into Jerusalem, his last supper, the trial, the crucifixion and resurrection, I pray that we may open our lives and hearts to all that life brings–joy and sorrow, death and rebirth. May you find beauty and love this day.