Easter: An Encore

In my Holy Saturday post, I said that the Holy Saturday poem would serve as my Easter Sunday poem also, and that it was the last in my 2019 Lenten/Easter series.

I lied.

Well, I didn’t lie; I was just misinformed.

So, here I am to set the record straight: I did, indeed, write a poem for Easter Sunday. What’s more, I’m going to share it with you in just a moment.

The timing is not so unusual as you might think. Easter, like Christmas, is not just one day. Christmas lasts 12 days (hence that catchy song); Easter lasts 50. That’s right: 50 whole days set aside for pondering, meditating upon, and rejoicing in the resurrection.

It makes sense, if you think about it: is one day enough to celebrate the fullness of the unimaginable glory that is the resurrection of our Savior? Absolutely not – especially if you consider that we just spent 40 days preparing for this time. 40 days of prayer, fasting, repentance, and not-exactly-fun self-examination need more than just one day of YAY on the other end.

So, I’m giving you an Easter poem today to remind you that we are still celebrating.

You are allowed to rejoice in the resurrection today just as much as you did on Easter, if not more! By the (utter lack of) authority vested in me, I hereby give you permission. You are welcome.

I do give you warning, though: this poem is not celebratory in the conventional sense. I even decided after writing it that I was not going to post it. You see, all of the questions and heaviness I walked through with you in my Lenten poem cycle did not magically disappear on Easter morn. I awoke that day with a song in my heart, yes, but also with the same load of needs, uncertainties, griefs, and prayers yet-to-be-answered that attended me each day throughout Lent.

I have a sneaky suspicion that I am not the only one out there who arrived at Easter with my bag of WHYs still full. Hence, I decided to share this final poem – just in case it might encourage some fellow travelers on this long and often weary road. For, while it is not overtly joyous, this sonnet does contain the kernel of a lesson I am trying to learn every day this Eastertide.

The difference in the pre- and post-Easter load is that Easter frees us to celebrate through the questions and confusion and discouragement. We do not pretend it’s all magically fine; the discipline of celebration means looking right at the smorgasbord of nasty and saying “All of this is real – but Christ is risen.”

Easter gives us an eternal reason to rejoice.

The reality of the resurrection is always more REAL than anything else, even our most present and pressing needs. The glory of the resurrection is that our eyes are now open – and opening – to see that Reality, even in small glimpses.

Sometimes the smallest glimpses are the best. This is the lesson: I have started to notice a sharpening of my vision to recognize these plain but potent pictures of the joy awaiting us:

~ sitting down to a meal with my family

~ watching my dog as he twitches and snuffles and chases squirrels in his sleep 

~ going for a long run on a sunny day; that first sip of well-made coffee (or tea, or wine, or bourbon)

~ taking in a good story through books or TV or movies

~ my husband calling out a private joke from the other room, and sharing a laugh with him that no one else would understand

Normal, everyday things, but if seen – if truly seen, and recognized, and savored as the rare and incredible gifts they are – they can be vessels of JOY.