The church courtyard is full of children, laughing, running, looking for the Easter eggs which have been "hidden" along ledges and under bushes. The sun is warm. A cross of calla lilies has been erected.
Folks of all ages are eating breakfast - long time members, brand new visitors, homeless folks who've wandered in from the park down the street. Eggs, scones, cereal, juice and coffee. There is food enough. There is welcome. There are smiles for everyone.
It's easy to be happy on a bright spring morning with perfect weather and good friends around. And if that's all there were too it, we'd all be happy all of the time. But we're brand new on this side of Holy Week. We worked hard to get here.
But this is the Easter promise. That our deepest fears, our empty hours and our flowing tears do not defeat the promise of life. Life is full of grace and miracles, just like this sunny-drenched morning.
Will there be troubling times ahead. Yes, of course there will be. But we know that morning will come, and hope will come, and grace will come. No matter what.
Happy Easter.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Friday, April 3, 2009
At the End of Lent
We are in the last week of Lent. How did that happen? Where did that time go? It seems like just days ago I was burning palm leaves for Ash Wednesday.
I have not been as disciplined as I might have hoped this season. I wanted to journal. I didn't. I wanted to be more mindful of how I was eating. I wasn't.
These days that are meant to be a time for reflection have become consumed with the busy-ness of doing: worrying about the budget, a difficult and disappointing set of meetings in Cleveland, several deaths in the congregation, and an orthopaedic problem that is requiring painful physical therapy. This has not been the time for paying attention for which I'd hoped.
Oh, but wait. Maybe that's just what Lent is about. The recognition that life is brief, and busy, and painful. And even in the middle of all of that, God is.
Maybe I can let myself off the hook for not journaling and for still driving through the fast-food joint. Maybe what I really can focus on is the gift of my life, with its trials and pains, and give thanks.
In one of our Lenten classes this year, we tried to put words to our spiritual journeys using the discipline of haiku. Admittedly not accomplished at this, here is what I wrote:
Remember. It's not
just do or don't. Breathe. Grace. Peace.
Opening the heart.
There's no grace-free zone
wherever I am, God is
and goodness abounds.
Blessings to you as we move into Holy Week, and ready our hearts for Easter joy.
I have not been as disciplined as I might have hoped this season. I wanted to journal. I didn't. I wanted to be more mindful of how I was eating. I wasn't.
These days that are meant to be a time for reflection have become consumed with the busy-ness of doing: worrying about the budget, a difficult and disappointing set of meetings in Cleveland, several deaths in the congregation, and an orthopaedic problem that is requiring painful physical therapy. This has not been the time for paying attention for which I'd hoped.
Oh, but wait. Maybe that's just what Lent is about. The recognition that life is brief, and busy, and painful. And even in the middle of all of that, God is.
Maybe I can let myself off the hook for not journaling and for still driving through the fast-food joint. Maybe what I really can focus on is the gift of my life, with its trials and pains, and give thanks.
In one of our Lenten classes this year, we tried to put words to our spiritual journeys using the discipline of haiku. Admittedly not accomplished at this, here is what I wrote:
Remember. It's not
just do or don't. Breathe. Grace. Peace.
Opening the heart.
There's no grace-free zone
wherever I am, God is
and goodness abounds.
Blessings to you as we move into Holy Week, and ready our hearts for Easter joy.
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