Repost from April, 2015
Easter holds so many memories for me. But I’ve written about those before…
And Easter brings up so many thoughts about faith. But I’ve written about those before, too…
Nowadays I resist attending most church services. Maybe it’s the itsy-bitsy shame from my upbringing about being a twice-a-year Christian. (I have clear memories of discussions about the people who showed up on Easter and Christmas.) Perhaps it is my tsetse fly concentration that loves the singing but causes me to fidget during the sermons. Or it is simply that I don’t want theology to drown out the snippets of spiritual wisdom that I glean from listening to preachers, teachers, and mystics whose thoughts I absorb from the myriads of ways to hear their voices.
Easter or not, my thoughts have expanded and here I am – writing again. Because my feelings about the holiday matter to me. In fact, tomorrow I may set my alarm at some ungodly hour and get up for my own sunrise service. I’ll step outside at daybreak having found a wonderfully uplifting download of many voices singing. No matter what the words I’ll thrill to the immense burst of joy that fills my heart and means Easter to me, “Christ arose, he arose…” Click here for the song.*
And then I will sit down next to the statue of Buddha in my and stroll past Kwan Yin in the side yard. Finally, I will make the circle past my joyous Kerria bush and stop to cheer on my Wisteria that is beginning to celebrate spring until I reach my back yard again where the birds bathe in the fountain.
I will rejoice that the universe has provided so many paths to spirit and wisdom that I could never name them all. As I am every day, I will be grateful for the beauty and love that surround me and pray for that same peace and love for every person sharing breath with me on Easter.
*I listened to the most beautiful praise songs by Mississippi Mass Choir and Sisters of Glory but eventually had to settle on my “white bread” upbringing for Easter.
Happy Easter, dear friend. In spirit this morning I walk with you through that garden, listening to the music you linked, grateful for meeting you in this present world.
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Thank you, Christin. It was a wonderful morning. (And yesterday was a great afternoon with you.)