FAITH and hope

eggsI’m getting ready to leave on a whirlwind road trip to celebrate Easter with my family. It’s a taxing jaunt that involves heading to another state and back in just over 24 hours.

Truth is, I’m happy about it. I can’t wait, really, to get going. Time with loved ones is so fleeting, and this year we have the added bonus of welcoming a family member who is back in the fold after many years. I’m happier than I can say.

And that’s what this season is about, isn’t it? Joy and hope combined with belief in something bigger than ourselves. Knowing without a doubt, no matter the situation, that in the end things work out.

Add in rebirth, symbolized by the resurrection, or crocuses popping out of the thawing ground, if you prefer. Or even the many ways we can reinvent ourselves to find our best lives, and it is clear that miracles do happen.

I had kind of a crap day, today. As a writer, I put everything I had into a piece that didn’t work out. How humiliating is that.

No one is perfect, true. But I’m better than that. And so I went back to the beginning and wrote and revised and wrote some more, and when I finally submitted my revision, after working and working and working, I knew the editor was right. My best would now be out there.

Then, I was thankful. How quickly things can turn around to become blessings.

When I was a girl I loved sitting next to my father in a silent dark church on Holy Saturday as the priest reminded us of Christ’s great sacrifice. It was lonely and scary and I pressed close to my dad as wax from the small, flickering taper I held dripped down and burned my fingers.

When we got home, hours later, we dyed eggs. Any time I smell vinegar now I am back at our kitchen table. With him.

My parents have been gone for a long time now, but my kids have that same love of Easter tradition. Of new life. The sacrifice that made it possible. Hidden chocolate eggs waiting to be found, like all the other treasures that make up our lives. Seeing that, I know now, with everything I have, that I have done my job.

Tomorrow it’s unlikely that I’ll see the inside of a church, but my heart will be there. And at the table later at my sister’s place, as we dip eggs, I’ll think of my dad, as well as the spirit of this holy season that has made it possible to hang on to belief. In others. And myself.

Because of that, I know that anything is possible. Renewed. Rejoicing. And thankful.


About Michele

I am a freelance writer with three kids, two cats, and a dog with thyroid disease. I'm bouncing back from a divorce and making the most of every day. There is so much beauty around me. I am grateful!
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