Ice and Immortality

I received the sad news yesterday that my Aunt Evelyn passed away. She was the last of my family's large number of great aunts and uncles. It's impossible for me to sift my memories of her apart from her large white country house and sprawling property because I so very rarely saw her anywhere else. Lebby, as she was known by everyone, opened up her big yard to the rest of the family for any and all occasions: Labor Day, 4th of July, Memorial Day, graduations, and any birthdays that were lucky enough to fall in the warm weather months. I wonder how many bonfires, sparklers, and rounds of Jarts and croquet were enjoyed over the decades? Those lazy days were much more than picnics, though. They provided us with a way of staying connected as a family.

You didn't go to Lebby's house because you received an invitation. You went to Lebby's house because you belonged. People would just drift in over the course of the day, even if only for an hour or two. And it was O.K. to bring a member of your extended family, or a friend, or a girlfriend. As I get older I appreciate more and more her rare gift of hospitality.

Lebby never had children of her own. But you would never guess it, from the warmth and kindness that she showed to all of us kids. She never displayed the impatience of someone who expects children to be little adults -- quite the contrary, she was the type of grownup that had the ability to converse with young people in a genuine and authentic way. We all mattered to Aunt Lebby.

So it was in a rather somber mood that my children, my mother, and I took a drive around Chautauqua Lake to see the Ice Castle. Every year we somehow miss the winter festival itself, but manage to at least take the trek to Mayville to appreciate the community's handiwork before it melts away. The temperatures were in only in the 30s, but it felt warm after our recent bitter temperatures. The sunshine had already eroded away the detail at some of the ice sculptures, obscuring the artist's intent. But the Ice Castle itself was still standing bold against the panorama of the lake. A green-blue light shone through its walls in the most strangely beautiful way. My mom and I took turns photographing the castle. She commented that it would all be gone in a month and we would only have the photographs left to admire.

And it needs to be so. Winter will soon give way to the Spring. And Spring will bring with it something much better -- green grass, flowers, warm breezes, and sunshine.

In the same way, Aunt Evelyn's passing is really her transition into the springtime of her life. She has taken up residence in a new homestead with a new yard. For the first time, she's the one walking into a family gathering already in progress. And she's basking in the hospitality of the One who loves us all.