Remembering lessons...
The hope of Easter
It was 19 years ago that I published the Listen to Life post that follows. I recently re-read it, finding familiar re-assurances and new insights, which is part of the message of Easter.
Putting aside thoughts of candy, baskets, bunnies and family dinners, the more clear picture of Easter prevails, and we are reminded of what it entails in various ways. In a multitude of messages that we receive – whether we pay attention to them or not is another story – we receive reminders that we are loved in the moment, over time and throughout eternity. Christ’s victory over death, His act of salvation and mercy, are love.
I had forgotten about the post of almost two decades ago and I plead guilty to too often forgetting the true message and truth of Easter. Every reminder helps, and I hope this one helps you.
Have a blessed, Easter, my friends.
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I took a nap on Saturday, the day before Easter, and had a dream. I’m not one to remember dreams, nor do I put as much stake in them as some of my inspirations did, such as Edward Weston. Saturday’s dream, borne in the sleep of exhaustion (mental, emotional and physical), provoked me, unburdened me and relaxed me with a message not unlike the day to follow: Easter. I believe, however, that part of listening to life is listening to any and all messages that are available. This one was truly overwhelming.
In the dream, I walked away from a gathering, judging from the background noise, and to a car in the driveway. I was alone and moved to the car to lean against it, hoping for it to support me and my thoughts. The sky was blue and was also reflected in the glass of the driver’s side window. I crossed my arms over the edge of the car’s roof, looked at the glass one more time and then leaned forward in surrender, placing my forehead on my arms. I recall wondering what to do, when I would be more in control of my life’s direction and a dozen other questions that raced in my head. My dad appeared at my side (he died almost 25 years ago) and I began to cry. I choked on my thoughts and was only able to say, “I’ve got a question or two for you in just a minute.” Before I could gather myself enough to ask, he kissed me on the top of my head and disappeared. Tears again flowed. And I awoke.
The tears were not dream tears. My face was wet and a puddle of salt water had collected in my CPAP breathing mask, and they ran out when I turned on the pillow. I longed to get back to the dream, but simply lay there and felt the tears empty with new tears following them.
When I turned over in bed, I was not sad, but confident that, no matter what, I was not forsaken. The feeling was similar the next day, Easter, as I sat in church and sent my prayers forward in hope.
No matter where you are in life and how life is treating you, you are not alone. You have your God, those near you and those who have passed before you. And while you can’t always hear the answers to your questions and prayers, there is love and support there for you.
Happy Easter, my friends.