It is such a beautiful day today. The temperature is pushing the upper 60s and the sun is warming the earth. Spring flowers have broken ground and are reaching for the sky. I know people throughout the country have experienced the dark side of spring with sever spring storms. Nevertheless, in our part of Nebraska it is just a beautiful day.
It is no mystery to me that we celebrate Easter in the spring of the year. As I walk out the front door hope and new life threaten to burst forth. Birds sing, squirrels are digging up the black walnuts they buried last fall and the song of Sandhill Cranes fills the air. There is something powerful afoot.
I’m afraid I will miss it if I’m not prepared. I’m concerned it will be too much for me if I’m not ready. Locked-in my climate controlled box, with artificial sounds, manufactured scents and on demand lighting will I notice the stone was rolled back?
Will my Lenten practice be strong enough to help me create space that is both focused and inviting? Robert Bly warns:
“Our disasters come from letting nothing live for itself,
from the longing we have to pull everything, even
friends, into ourselves, and let nothing alone.”
“O Lord, hear my prayer, and let my cry come to you.” (Ps 102:2)