Monday, April 13th, 2020

The wind howls outside, shaking the windows and snapping the flag just over my back fence. Power lines dance and branches clap their twiggy hands. The storm will continue for hours, then move on – not the same deadly force it had in the South, but enough to offer downed lines and flooded roads.

I don’t fear the storm – my house is well built and I’ve seen many a more severe one. In a few hours, the sun will return; in a few days, the seeds I planted yesterday will be green shoots. I can enjoy the wild weather because the mild days are on the way. Life renews itself, asking little of me but recognition and participation.

But weather isn’t the only storm. Everyone is hunkered down, waiting for the pandemic to pass. Many have perished, and many more are suffering. This will end, just as the storm out my window will, but the cost is far greater and the damage far worse.

When I can return to something like my normal life, will I do so with a greater appreciation for the blessings I have? Will I do my best to make sure that the part of this world I call my home is better prepared should it happen again? Will I take action to strengthen and serve the most vulnerable among my neighbors?

What will I do with the time I am given? Will I live a resurrected life, a grateful life, a holier life? I hope so. Will I return to old habits that waste time and effort, focus on myself to the exclusion of others, take my life for granted? I hope not, but I expect I will – at least in part.

God forgive me if I live the rest of this life as if Easter never happened.