Welcome, sweet springtime

Preparing to come home from Oahu, we shipped cartons of Hawaiian books we'd bought: language, history, culture. As we packed, our friends noticed Montana's weather.

"The mountains where you live," one said, "have four feet of snow. I don't know how you people survive like that."

Tanned and wearing an aloha shirt and shorts, he stretched in the sun, making a big "Ahhh" to punctuate his point.

"There are lots of wonderful things about Montana," I said, reeling off a dozen. "I admit the long winters aren't one of them. You just need to come see us."

Soon we flew from Honolulu to Seattle where we'd left our car with friends. We visited a few days and took off for home the next Sunday.

That night in Spokane Lowell said, "I don't feel so well."

Monday afternoon he became dizzy and needed me to drive. We reached home Monday night, both sick.

Thursday we went to the doctor. "I hope I haven't brought the first case of swine flu to Montana," Lowell worried.

The doctor did tests and said, "Not swine flu, not even people flu. It's a respiratory virus." He sent us home to get well.

We slept, coughed and blew, yearning for sun and warmth. Outside the weather blustered. For almost two weeks we ventured out of the house only for medical appointments.

When I felt well enough to sit for a bit, I went to my study. Outside my window the peonies and daylilies were pushing out of the ground and the euphorbia was turning bright yellow. Tulips and pansies blossomed pink, gold and purple.

"Spring!" I said. Hack, hack, cough. "I may die if I don't get out in the garden soon."

Lowell reminded me that neither of us was well enough yet. "Besides," he said, "it's cold." I think his body had reset itself to expect Oahu temperatures, and it was outraged by this wintry weather.

At last it warmed up and we strolled outside to sit on the little deck beside the pond that we call our teahouse. Our fish greeted us by swimming up to the edge near us. All of them made it splendidly through the winter and looked sleek and healthy.

The three larger koi, now 10-11 inches long, circled nearby making loud smacking noises with their big mouths. "Feed us," they seemed to say. "Feed us."

"They remember us," Lowell said, smiling. We were happy to be home.

Now we're recuperating, glad to see summer coming. "From the fig tree learn its lesson: as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts forth its leaves, you know that summer is near. So also...you know that he is near, at the very gates." Mark 13:28-29.

In the meantime I'm aware of the world's troubles rolling on. I pray and hope, laughing and enjoying the small things of my life. Here and today is what I have -- my God, my family and my beloved Big Sky country.

God is so good.

Joan Uda is a retired United Methodist minister living in Lewis and Clark County. Contact her at joanuda@yahoo.com or PO Box 1065, E. Helena, MT 59635. Her books are available at certain area bookstores.