Growing Paradise and the Process of Life
Remnants of May 12, 2014 storm Today, paradise lost seems suddenly found—not so much a place as a process. Green blades of spring grass thrust themselves through a foot of mountain snow and I fall back in love, all over again, with the process of life. Matt Lambert with 4-day old Carly Rose Only a few days ago I held my first grandchild in my arms. Later, I watched my son cradle her in his arms for hours, enraptured, lost in the fleeting twitch of each newly found and endearing expression. Carly's newborn sleep seemed ripe with discovery. What’s this? A smile? How pleasurable! Newborns, the breath of heaven. Paradise—not a place but a process—the intricate regeneration of hope and desire. How carefully Carly’s mother grew her, each morsel eaten nourishing the soil in which Carly’s life took root, one eyelash at a time. Nature makes this growing seem effortless. Green grass sprouts beneath a blanket of snow and we hurry past, rarely awed. We read a poem