The daffodils are poking up in front of our house. They haven’t bloomed yet, just a few green stalks pointing towards the sky. Easter came early this year. Last year our daffodils were in full bloom during Holy Week. That might be a strange thing to remember, but its pretty vivid for me. It was the first really beautiful week of the year, when the threat of cold finally fell off of the 10-day forecast, and you could be certain that the sun would shine clearly all day. Not only would it shine, but it was the kind of sunshine that you could feel in your bones. I took a picture of the daffodils late that Easter Sunday, mainly because they were the last thing I remembered seeing the Friday before Easter, Good Friday, when C decided to show up unexpectedly.
Dr. E’s water broke late on Good Friday evening last year. My sister and family were in town for a visit, and we had just said goodnight to them. I sat at the dining room table, furiously and frustratedly trying to finish some statistics homework before the 11:59pm deadline, when Dr. E walked into the room with a strange look in her eye. The next 12 hours are forever etched into my memory, though are too special to be shared here. C was born healthy and happy just before lunchtime on Saturday. We spent the afternoon recovering, visiting with family in the hospital, and generally trying to wrap our minds around what had just happened (we’re still trying to figure that out…). Then on Easter Sunday morning, again just around lunchtime, we emerged from the hospital into the most beautiful sunshine that I’ve ever experienced. We bundled C into the car and drove home, starting the weirdest and most incredible adventure of our lives.
It wasn’t until a few days after his birth that the timing really struck us. We entered the hospital late on Good Friday, and walked out on a beautiful Easter Sunday. Easter has always been about new life, rebirth, and hope, but C’s birth has added an extra layer of meaning to this special day. We mark special days on our calendars to remember. Not only to remember the reasons for holidays, but to remember that time is passing. To remember that winter takes away, but hope springs anew. To remember that all evidence points to cyclical forces beyond anything we can yet fathom. Planets spin, atoms dance, leaves fall and bloom, flowers wither only to push up from the ground again. Life ends, life begins. I believe that the Easter message, both in Christ and in the motions and cycles of creation, can teach us something really important. I’m not certain that I can put that “something” into words, but I think its there if we are willing to look.