The end of Lent and a black flower

This letter is being typed during Holy Week. Lent is a time of preparation. Preparation for what? spring?

We've just finished the longest winter I can remember. Our daughter once said that February was the longest month of the year. Can you relate to that? It's also when the season of Lent begins. Which brings me to the Lenten Luncheons. Records say that the first one was held in 1970 at First Baptist Church. The luncheons were still held there in 1980, so that's at least 11 years, before they were moved to The Presbyterian Church.

Our series of annual Lenten Luncheons is an "institution" that has not only lasted for over 50 years, but also has expanded its program and its attendance. How great it is to be greeted by high school-age members of the Fellowship of Christian Athletes when we enter the room, choose our slice of pie from the bountiful table, and greet so many friends we know as we find a seat at a round table. Which leads me to tell you about one of the realizations that came to me this Lenten Season: "These are my people." It's the wonder of how God wove the life of Sally Scott from Augusta, Maine, to be here now with you.

The second realization of my 2026 Lenten Season has to do with this picture of a black flower. You'll remember that in the early 1950s, Mum asked if she could have a black pansy. Here's a picture of a black flower, taken Oct. 18, 2025. It's a hollyhock, blooming in all its deep purple glory. The picture is taped onto our kitchen wall, above the table, where it can be seen often each day.

This past winter has been a time for me to be overwhelmed by self-imposed to dos. Have you ever felt that way? Take another look at the big, impressive flower. Do you see that teeny tiny yellow leaf, nestled safely in the middle? That's me. It's you. Sheltered closely to the heart of the flower. Because of Easter.