Easter was busy. All the usual things... church, hymns, egg hunts, cinnamon rolls, family dinner. It was a beautiful day, but it was a blur. For me, Easter really came Monday morning.
On the first day of the week, very early in the morning, the women took the spices they had prepared and went to the tomb.
Easter was quiet. The hustle of the weekend and the holiday had passed. Women who had cleaned up and made a to do list came, first thing in the morning, to honor their teacher. They came to grieve. They came to do as women do. Finish the unfinished work.
Monday morning was bright. I had a house to clean. But I had all day to do it. I thought about those women. Life is usually rearranged by tragedy, by more work, by extra. It is so unusual to show up prepared to do caregiving and find caregiving is not needed. There is an empty space where work should have been. There is an empty space that fills with joy.
I scrolled Instagram as I lazily cleaned. A poignant writer I follow (@scottthepainter) had started a new series.
"Stations of the resurrection"
I let myself resonate with the oddness of it. It is easy to slow down a mediate on the suffering of the cross. But with Easter, we jump up, receive the good news and move on to chocolate and beer.
This holy mystery. Holiest. Most mysterious of all holy mysteries. And yet it's almost too much to look at, to ponder. So we tie it up with happy ever after and call it good.
But there is a whole season to ponder this mystery. There is a whole 40 days to let the light grow brighter as we travel to Pentecost.
I had a beautiful joyful space on my quiet Easter Monday to reflect on those faithful women who went looking for Jesus. I have 40 days to journey the stations of the resurrection and allow my eyes to adjust to the brightness of the mystery of Easter.
Thank you for traveling again with me through Lent. It is a hard, sacred journey and sharing it is such a gift. May your Easter season be bright and may your heart be filled.
Amen.
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