Tomorrow is Sunday

Today is Saturday.  Three weeks since Rachel went Home.

All my life, I’ve based my weak hope on the strong reality of Home. Every Sunday we celebrate Jesus’ resurrection, assurance of Home.  I love the extra opportunity Easter gives to celebrate resurrection that gives my every day meaning. Some of my favorites:

• Good Friday service or hymn sing at home
• Sunrise services – last year with incredible music and dance
• Special music – participating
• Family dinner – blood family also Spirit family, joy
• House dance – what better reason to dance than the resurrection!!

Not last week.  I was a wreck.  Along with others. Miles away from my home context.  We traded treasured traditions for a raw recognition of resurrection. Resurrection – real hope in the midst of the wreck of experienced reality. No sunrise service, no piano, no viola, no choir, no dance.  This year’s quietness – caused by death in our midst. Yet I experienced none of that depression that inward-death-creating type.  A brother reminded me: “Death used to be an executioner, but the gospel has made him just a gardener.” (George Herbert)

Loss’ pain and tears, like seeds planted and watered, waiting for transformation.  Future resurrection.  Our whole beings, the whole earth.  Resurrection.  Not just future.  Present life from the Spirit – mostly hidden – yet unmistakably overtaking us.

Gifts of Spirit. Life these past weeks:   Moments with family, so precious.  Staying together in a house large enough for us all.  Truth spoken, lived, heard. Comfort.  Companionship. Time to grieve. Children’s laughter.

Morning walks.  Beautiful fields all around, tears wept, Spirit’s presence and understanding felt.  One morning I realized along the way I’d woken so early I had time to walk to the top of the next hill.  I arrived and wondered at its view, soft in the early light. The wind made a two-note flute out some metal on an electric pole, accompaniment to my amazement.  Then all grew brilliant.  Sunrise.  The silent song of the hills and sky swirled and caught my heart.

Later I remembered it was Easter morning.