Saturday, April 19, 2014

The Golden Egg

This morning our neighbors invite us to join them on an Easter Egg hunt in the forest. As I make my way past thorns, briars, fallen logs, and piles of leaves (this is the forest!), I find myself so full of delight.


Then, I realize I'm in charge of hiding the Golden Egg. I can hardly speak from the sneaky joy of it.

When I was in third grade, back in the 80's, I once found the Golden Egg during a military base wide Easter Egg Hunt in Ft. Lewis, Washington. I remember exactly what it felt like to spy that bright golden egg. It had been hidden in the ivy, and when I found it, I held it up over my head and couldn't speak. I was silenced by the excitement--the unbelievable happiness--of it.

The prize was a Cabbage Patch doll. A real Cabbage Patch doll that nobody else had and that everyone wanted. It you grew up in the 80's, you know exactly what the Cabbage Patch doll meant to me. Even all these years later, I can't believe it actually happened to me.

This time around, I'm hiding the Golden Egg for my own daughter who happens to be the exact same age as I was back then. This time around, I'm the one hiding, not searching. This time around, I'm the one giving, not getting. I'm making the moments for another generation, just like someone made them for me. The delight is just as powerful and just as exciting.


Growing older means that I get to hide the Golden Egg and watch the joy of others finding it. And what a joy it was! Early into motherhood, I felt the loss of my youth, but now, I feel what I gain with age.

I hide the Golden Eggs, and that's better than finding them.





Friday, April 18, 2014

With Every Burial, a Resurrection

Today, I recall Annie Dillard's quote that I wrote about this time last year. She profoundly asks this about Jesus: "Does anyone have the foggiest idea what sort of power we so blithely invoke? Or, as I suspect, does no one believe a word of it?" I wondered last year what my life might be like if I understood this more fully.

What would happen if I did? What would happen if I lived my life in daily resurrection power? The kind of power that brings dead things to life, parts seas, brings down manna from heaven, heals the blind, walks on water, multiplies meager resources, changes one thing into another, finds treasure in the mouth of a fish, silences the demons, commands nature, cleanses, restores, redeems, renews, protects, provides. . .

Oh, if I did! Seeing my life's problems in the light of resurrection power fills me with a sublime joy. I'm filled with wonder before a Holy God. I'm skirting around the hem of glory, daring to touch a bit of the magic that upholds the universe.

We invoke a power we cannot comprehend
.

Easter of 2011, I asked God what has to die in me. I knew powerfully that with every burial, resurrection power comes. I knew that year that something incredible awaits, but it's a passage through death and thorns.

The thorns around the vernal pond showed me this.

Finally, in Easter 2010, I learned that most of all, Easter is about love and grace.

Today is a burial, but a resurrection comes.





Thursday, April 17, 2014

In the Shriveled, Dry Nothing of It

Do you remember the Glorious Homemade Trellis my husband made for me for Mother's Day last year? I love this trellis!


I loved that we picked out peachy-pink colored climbing rose bushes that I just know will one day cover the whole side of the house. We pruned, and three months later, we had beautiful climbing roses (but no blooms yet).



Then, crisp autumn winds and a seventh month winter shriveled the bushes down to nothing. They seriously seemed beyond hope.

Today, I check and find the very first sign of spring growth. How does this even happen in the face of shriveled, dry nothing?


I'm so excited! Keep growing, little rose bush! Grow strong and mighty up the trellis!

I'll keep you posted.