The first buds of spring around the lake by my house were tiny purple wildflowers, a ground cover of sorts, sneaking up from beside the new green grass. They looked like miniature violets, my grandmas favorite; and since I don’t have the app on my phone that identifies plants I’m going to believe that this is what they were.

Each year, I’m amazed at how the first color of spring is violet. The color of royalty, suffering, faith, and obedience—the color of spirituality. The color of the robe that Jesus wore before His crucifixion. And, since I don’t believe in coincidences, having God paint purple first into our cold Minnesota landscape seems telling to its importance. We’ve made it through another winter of the world, and winters of the soul, and the floral reminder of Christ in are lives, through plots of purple is a great solace and joy. 

For Mother’s Day this year I’ve decided to surround myself in purple. I bought deep purple lavender plants for the front yard and various varieties of pansies and other purple combinations for the back. Each year since my mom passed I’ve bought roses vines and rose bushes to honor my mom. But this year it is about the purple. I found purple tulips and am looking for the violets (my grandma’s favorite); I’ve even started wearing lots of purple. Yes, purple has always been my favorite color. When I was five I was audiotaped by my parents as having said, “I want purple eyes when I grow up.” Nothing about what I want to do with my life, just the color of eyes I’d like to have. No, I never tried the colored contacts like others did in college, purple on dark brown wouldn’t work. But I did put purple highlights in my hair when I turned fifty—subtle ones that you could only see when my hair was pulled back. But they were there. 

There is something about surrounding yourself with your favorite color and identifying it to your spirituality. This weekend God blessed us with exceptionally colored skies in the rare intense geomagnetic storm. On Friday, I tried to see the aurora borealis dance in my neighborhood, but the neighbors lights were way too bright. My good friend, who was up north planting a tree for her recently passed mom, sent me the above photo of the purple sky (in motion) with the caption “feeling like my mom is present tonight in the aurora”. I felt a twinge of jealousy with my awe and grabbed a flashlight, wandered down the hill, trying to find a dark enough spot to see my mom in some type of purple dance in the sky. No luck.

So late last night, I chased the northern horizon in my car. Headed toward what my mind thought was a faint purple glow. Yet, the weather radar showed full cloud coverage. I so badly wanted to see God’s magnificent painting, the purple dance, maybe feel my mom’s presence again. I even took pictures as the journalists recommended you can see the purple through a camera lens better than your naked eye. I just got beautiful wisps of white clouds and dots of stars and tried to convince myself that that was my aurora given to me by God to represent my mom. My mom that lived only now in my memories. 

As I got back into bed at 2:00 in the morning, I tried to not be disappointed. I remembered I still had more purple to wear, more flowers to plant, and more thinking I can do on the reason Christ wore purple before being crucified. I can live in the symbolism and metaphor of color that God provides every day. And, I can remember how much my grandma loved violets on her kitchen window sill and the purple orchids I’d buy my mom on Mother’s Day. I can live in my memories, until we all meet again as God promised through Christ.

Tomorrow, I can still walk the lake by my house and search for the tiny purple flowers that are now hidden among all the white and yellow and green. And, I suppose, if the scientists are right, and the aurora comes back again tonight…I can grab my car keys and chase down some more purple sky. 

Thank you, God, for your signs and wonders that covered all ends of the earth in your color-dance with the heavens. Amen.