I am writing this on the first day of May, and it’s a beautiful sunny spring day. The iris in my garden are just beginning to open while the coral bells, lilies of the valley, and the bleeding hearts are in full bloom. There are even a few narcissi still waving in the soft breeze. What a day! I want a Maypole to dance around! When I was a child, May Day was celebrated as a true springtime holiday at my school. And, yes, there was a Maypole that we danced around, weaving in and out as the ribbons we held were braided around the pole.
My favorite childhood May Day memory was the old tradition of the “May Basket.” I gathered a small basketful of flowers from our garden and placed it at the front door of our house. I rang the doorbell and then quickly hid and waited for my mother to open the door. She never failed to be surprised by the anonymous gift.
As a child, I didn’t know that there existed another, wholly different stream of May Day practices. In 1890, at the International Workers’ Congress conference in Paris, May 1st was declared to be International Workers’ Day. At that time in the United States, the American Federation of Labor was pushing for an eight hour work day–instead of what was frequently 10, 12 or 14 hours for the common laborer. Having a specific day honoring workers brought attention to the unsafe conditions, poor pay, and long hours they had to endure.
In much of the world, a May 1st International Workers’ Day continues to be recognized. And paying attention to the working and living conditions of all workers and their families is still important. Unacceptable conditions, especially within migrant worker communities, are still rampant and need changing.
Dancing around the Maypole and marching for workers’ rights–what a contrast! And yet, I believe we need both ways of honoring the first of May.
I need the rebirth of hope and the energy of spring’s renewal to help me work to create a better, fairer world where everyone can thrive. Springtime brings me the energy to keep on, to keep on even when I’m not sure if it makes a difference. And when I doubt, I can draw on the renewal of spring to help me believe that we can make a difference. I need the eruption of the fresh and fragile flowers of spring to regrow my hope and sustain my faith that a new world, a more kind and compassionate world, is possible.
Springtime feels like the earth itself is supporting our efforts to flourish and to widen our sense of community, and then to care about the lives of those we call neighbors. I wonder what a gift of a May Basket placed at the door of a neighbor would look like today. Perhaps it would be a gift to a class and teacher in a school district that is underfunded. Perhaps it would be a donation to support low-income housing. Remembering that May contains 31 days, how would you gift a neighbor with a May Basket?
The deep mysterious strength of earth’s renewal reminds me that the One “who made heaven and earth,” who created all the seasons, is the One “from whom comes our strength.” This Divine One yearns for all people to live in peace and love for each other. May the Source of Love refill our hope, replenish our love, and draw us on.
If this reflection has spoken to you, please share it with others.