Category Archives: Easter

Easter, Lent, Lent2026

What If?

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Christ is Risen! Death does not have the last word. So what now?

My mother thought that people didn’t find faith because they were afraid that God would ask them to die for that faith. That might be true for some. I’d bet that people are more afraid that God will ask them to live for that faith.

What would my life be if I lived as God’s beloved child?

What would my life be if I loved God rather than feared some kind of afterlife punishment?

What would my life be if I loved myself for the unique person I am, shortcomings and all?

What would my life be if I loved you for the unique person you are, shortcomings and all?

God. Self. And you, my Neighbor. What if…?

There’s no better time to live out that what if…

Easter

Life From Death

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Years ago, a woman I knew got drunk at a bar, got behind the wheel, and wrapped her car around a tree. Had she not been pinned so tightly against the steering wheel, she’d have died from blood loss long before help arrived.

She needed rehab for months afterward, and there were consequences for driving drunk. But I’ve often thought that the most difficult part of her recovery must also have been the most miraculous: that she survived an accident that should have claimed her life. What does it mean to be given life rather than death?

Isn’t that the big question we must all ask ourselves? What does it mean to be given this life? How will we honor this most precious gift?

If we die with Christ, we are resurrected with Christ. How will we honor this most precious truth?

Easter, Meditation, observation

Moving

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We pick up the keys to the new house today. Saturday is the moving day for the big things – bed, dresser, and bookcase. We have people helping us with those things. But the moving began some days back; boxes are packed with linens, clothes, books, and other things easily packed into the car. Mops and cleaners will go first, getting floors and shelves ready for filling. Plants and pictures will arrive well before the big furniture, set aside until everything is in its place. It’s a lot of work to move the smaller things over, but easy enough to do with a few boxes, a car, and a free hour or two.

Moving in small doses, taking stock of what needs to go and what can be let go of, is how I’ve gone from one life stage to another just as surely as the way to go from one house to another. Small things shift, preparing the space for moving the bigger things. Activities are put in a new context, adapting to a new configuration that gives structure to my inner life’s new home. It’s a way to welcome in a new stage, and a reminder that it’s time to ask for help with the big things I can’t get from one stage to another on my own.

Easter, Meditation, observation

Removal

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For twenty years, this tree has provided a shady place on hot summer days, a beautiful foliage display in Autumn, and a favorite vantage point for our cats to look for birds, mice, and moles. On the back side, it’s charred from just above the base to the first big split – a scar from a former neighbor’s thoughtless and reckless trash burning. Blizzards and Nor’easters have taken their toll, and weakened it to the point where it is a potential hazard to two houses, a garage, and the fence. An arborist is removing it today. I am sorry to lose this silent resident that has added so much to my life without much notice or appreciation on my part.

The beauty and impact of many living things are subtle, only coming to awareness when they are no longer present, or soon to be gone. Love and strength come in many forms, some bearing leaves if not audible voices. With gratitude for twenty years of hospitality, and regret for not offering them earlier and often, God be with you, kind neighbor.

Easter, Meditation, observation

Chairs

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While out on the beach there are two empty chairs that say more than the people who ever sit there.

Jimmy Buffett, Lone Palm, Fruitcakes; UMG recordings, 1994

They’re nothing special – you can pick them up in any hardware store. But without them, would I stay still long enough to notice the big, beautiful world just outside my door? Without a second chair, how would I catch a glimpse of the inner life of the friends, neighbors, and family members who grace my life with their presence?

In Jimmy Buffett’s song, I figured that the empty chairs represented missed opportunities – no one ever sat there. But it could just as easily mean that the chairs themselves speak to what time and vantage point offer us every day: a shared glimpse of the inner and outer worlds we inhabit.

A view, a loving other, and an awareness of their value. For these valuable things, I thank you, God.

Easter, Meditation, observation

Life on Schedule

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This morning, I was pruning back the branches of a spindly shrub, then taking the dead branches back to the brush pile. Walking back to the house, I saw this bit of green poking through the dirt.

The chives I divided from my plant in Wareham had emerged, pushing back the crumbly dirt and last year’s leafy leftovers. I’d started looking for it well over a week ago. The irises, lilies, and daffodils were coming up, but no chives; because chives usually appear earlier than the flowers, I assumed that it hadn’t made it through the winter. Yet, here they were, several inches in length, healthy and happy in this new place. With barely any attention, they will be here for years to come, adding flavor to food and beauty to the yard.

Life has its own timing, and doesn’t limit itself to my schedule or expectations. I may plant, tend, and harvest, but the plants are following their own inner logic and timeline. There’s something wonderful about that – and it’s good to be reminded that life has its own terms.

If I could remember that truth when it comes to all life, including people, I’d be a whole lot closer to wisdom and graciousness.

Biblical Reflection, Easter, Lent, Meditation, observation

Did I?

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When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways. For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. I Corinthians 13:11b – 12a

I heard the tantrum in the other room, quickly followed by the sight of a mother carrying her daughter out of story time. What started the whole thing remains a mystery, but the result was a little girl and her mother missing out on two more stories and a craft. If the little girl could have looked past whatever it was that upset her, if she could have held out an extra minute or so, she’d have gotten a musical instrument to play, a chance to point to her favorite kite on the page of the book, and had the chance to pick out a book to take home. Unable to take a longer view, she missed out on all of it.

My perspective isn’t as limited as a two year old’s. I don’t throw tantrums, and I can opt for longer lasting satisfaction over immediate gratification. I have patience, control over my emotional outbursts, and can forego something for the benefit of another. But I still grow impatient when I am needlessly (at least from my perspective) delayed; some people rub me the wrong way, and I am annoyed at their presence more than at anything they happened to be doing; I don’t like to admit my own short-sightedness. The mirror in which I view myself and everything else in creation is dark and distorted, and my partial love isn’t strong enough illuminate it sufficiently.

Paul writes that when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways. Paul may have done so, but I’m not so sure I have.

Biblical Reflection, Easter, Meditation, observation

When it comes…

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Love never ends. But as for prophecies, they will come to an end; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will come to an end. For we know only in part, and we prophesy only in part; but when the complete comes, the partial will come to an end. ICor 13:8-10, NRSV

Once we know something (barring suppression, brain injury or damage), we can’t unknow it – the end of a book, the punchline to the joke, the last note of a song. Resolution cannot be undone; even if we repeat the experience, we can’t go back to our original starting point because we know how it all ends. Our partial experience ends when we reach completion.

But love is something different than these things that come to an end. We are deeply loved by God in our first breath and our last, and in every breath between. Our days will come to an end, and our lives will end in death, but the love we give and receive is something that abides beyond life and death. Instead of abiding in death, we return to the love that gave us life in the first place. Because love isn’t partial – at least not God’s love.

It gives me hope that God will make out of my own partial love something complete.