By Karen Milioto

The crisp February breeze bit at my face as I surveyed the farm which lay sleeping before me. The branches of fruit trees, still bare, and the fields remained lined with row after empty row of barren soil. Everything was suspended in waiting, lingering on the threshold of spring, and I found the companionship comforting.

For the past three years my life had been dominated by cycles of injections, surgeries, and bloodwork, followed by weeks of hope-filled anticipation that would then be crushed by sonograms of my still-empty womb. After that I would turn from the fertility clinic, get on the elevator, and ride down to the lobby of the bustling women’s hospital alongside happy couples gripping strips of ultrasound photos, expectant moms clutching large bellies full of life, and new families cradling infants, as I stood in the corner with nothing but a receipt for that month’s procedures in my hand.

It had been one month since my last surgery and we had decided to take a break from the medications and procedures to recover and figure out what to do next. The last thing I expected on that day was to be holding a positive pregnancy test. And yet there it was. I had called the doctor, certain that it was a mistake, and asked the nurse if it was even possible. She laughed saying, “Strange, yes. But anything is possible.”

Anything was possible? I wondered in response. And as I uttered that phrase back to myself, I realized that my view of possibility had been narrowed into the pathways outlined and illuminated on my behalf by percentages and charts that were informed by logic and reason. I no longer believed that anything was possible, my perspective on possibility was blocked.

There is something about blocking and buffering that shields us from vulnerability and loss. Though at the same time this causes us to approach what is yet-to-be, half asleep. And in creativity, cultivation, and life in Christ, we are invited to inhabit a posture that is alert and awakened to a sense of infinite potential and possibility. Even when winter seems to be gripping us with both hands, and death appears to have overcome life, we are invited to stand defiantly in the darkness, and lean forward in hope-filled anticipation.

We see this illustrated in the Gospel of John, as Mary and Martha meet Jesus at Lazarus’ tomb, perturbed by his tardiness. As they stand at the tomb defeated, Jesus arrives and leans into the moment with anticipation. While their perspective is narrowed by death, Jesus’ sees beyond it to resurrection. And Jesus invites them to act against the boundaries of their logic, reason, and vision, instructing them to ignore the stench and apprehension so that they might become participants in the process of re-awakening. And we are called to move in much the same way today, rolling back stones, unraveling grave clothes, and removing whatever hinders our vision so that new life and light can emerge.

Karen Milioto

www.karenmilioto.com
karenmilioto.substack.com

Karen is a former Bostonian who now resides on a small regenerative farm in South Louisiana with her husband Brad and daughter Ruth. She has a M.A. in Christian Spiritual Formation and Leadership from Friends University and currently serves as Director of Discipleship and Spiritual Formation at University United Methodist Church.