Easter First

The original version was 17 minutes, okay?

The Death and the Resurrection

This post has been with me all year. It became real in August, when I held my baby girl for the first time and felt the life flowing between us as she nursed for the first, second, third, fourth times. As her father held her in the waking hours of the dawn humming hymns in the hospital room. She came from darkness into light, from loneliness into fellowship with us and the creation, and eventually, we pray each day, the Creator.

It became more real in October, when we came to church one morning to hear that a great friend had left us for Heaven. It is real now every day, every moment that we remember him. Each time Husband looks at his IM at work or visits the gym, each time we see his precious family, now especially with his notable, "March madness." There isn't a day that goes by without us mourning his departure.

All this to say that Easter is different for me this year. Maundy Thursday and Good Friday are darker. I've had a tiny, tiny, glimpse of the disciple's experience: to lose a friend, to say goodbye is hard enough. This doesn't even address when it must have been like for them. But it helps me to meditate in that way when I consider the sacrifice of my Christ. When I read Pink's blog and remember how Brent was and that he is gone, and then magnify that as far as my mind can go, to consider how Christ must have been, and what He did for us is truly beyond my mortal frame.

And when I think of Resurrection, of emerging from the darkness of death and into life, like my little Heidi this sweet year, it also takes new meaning as well. I have been reborn, and someday will be glorified. We will emerge from the darkness, we will bask in Christ's presence and be made new. There will be no more crying and no more pain. His grace was sufficient. His gift, eternal.

Something to mourn; something to celebrate. I have a feeling that Easter will become deeper, darker, and lighter with each passing year.

White Cloud III

Mulch on our minds: this pile looks way bigger in real life. If you look closely, you can see the edges of my North Face Expedition 25 four-season tent protecting our xeroscape from the intruding materials.

You know you've traded something for the suburbs when you literally lay down your tent for a pile of mulch. Douglas Coupland, anyone?

Not much time for much else, but let's just say Una better not complain about her sweet dog run. Oh, and Husband rocks for shoveling till dark.

Happy Birthday, Gramps!

We love you!

White Cloud II

Today we are closing, Lord willing! It looks like it's going to be a crazy couple weeks, but for some reason, I am always more prone to blogging when there's more to be done. Hmmm.

Thanks for everyone's prayers and concern for us in this big change!