Erin's Journals

Sunday, April 12, 2020

Just a thought… Easter is meant to be a symbol of hope, renewal and new life. [Janine Di Giovanni]

A very Happy Easter to you on this blessed Sunday.

Every day that we are safe and healthy is, in fact, a blessed one, but this day shines a light on fact that, as Anne Lamott so beautifully put it, we can dance again, but with a limp.

Here’s to dancing, with or without your Easter bonnet. Here’s to recognizing the signs of spring and knowing in our hearts that like the seasons, this, too, shall pass. Rob and I were remarking yesterday how grateful we are that this didn’t hit us in November when nature seems so muted and sad.

With the hope that comes with spring, we imagine re-emerging or returning to our lives stronger and with more gratitude for the things we took for granted just a month ago. The quick trips to a bountifully-stocked store for something we need, without obsessing over how long the lines will be or whether or not our makeshift masks will help keep us and others safe.

The joy of hugging and holding those people we love and miss so dearly, more with each passing day. But especially today when we should be sharing a meal of celebration.

The simple pleasure of sitting on a bench and watching the ducks going about their daily lives.

Rob and I walk for half an hour each day as Molly checks her pee-mails and does her thing (she’s in this picture down to the right just waiting for our walk to resume).

We wave to passersby out for their daily exercise and smile at people whose faces we’ve never seen before. We keep our distance, go home and find ways to keep busy.

But on those walks, the displays of nature in her glory – the sweet cloying smells of hyacinth and trees blooming in baby shower pinks – keep us grounded and remind us of the beauty that survives within us and without us (to paraphrase George Harrison).

We cherish the sunny optimism of daffodils, the raucous reds of bushes we’ve yet to identify and the various pleasing scents that waft on the gentle spring breeze. And we stop to wonder at a tree whose branches seem barely strong enough to eventually bear huge blooms, but which, for now, appear to be adorned with the brightest Easter eggs we’ve ever seen.

These are our gifts, the not-so-hidden eggs we discover anew each day in searching for ways to shift our thoughts away from what we don’t have, and instead silently and steadily list the things we have been given.

On this Easter Sunday I wish you renewed hope with the reminder that we can do this.

And with thanks, I’ll be back with you here tomorrow.

Rob WhiteheadSunday, April 12, 2020