I must always consider this season greater than others. I see rainy, sunny, cold, snowy, sunny
Sundays in my Easter history. It’s always
in Spring – the season I dislike more than any other. Spring has taken so much from me. Mocked me with
its motto of new life by taking those who I love the most. Taunting me with bright skies as it clogged
the air, making breathing for this asthmatic simply painful.
For God to come to me over and again so personally in Spring
is always a surprise.
It was Easter season at a Lutheran Church when He spoke very
clearly to me, “take up your cross and follow Me.” I have no idea if anyone else heard Him, but
I did. I can still see the austere
arched ceiling, hear the creak of the wooden pews, smell the 100-year old stale
air. Feel the pull of a Force I struggled
to understand.
It echoed the words of yesteryears when I, as a very young
girl in Catechism class, went through the Stations of the Cross. I recall standing before Simon wishing I
could have been there. I vowed I would
have done the same. I wanted to be Veronica wiping the face of Jesus, caring
for Him. Easter promises never forgotten.
Another year, another difficult season in my life, I made my
way to church to honor Him for Easter Mass.
I remember the rain, the crowd, what I wore. Alone in the crowd, the service did nothing
to fill my emptiness. I stood on the
steps outside waiting for my ride and considered the fresh cleanness of the
air. Wondering if God could give my life
some cleanness, some freshness. Was I
too deeply entrenched in sin that I couldn’t be forgiven anymore?
Through that year, He worked on my life and my heart. Turning everything I knew upside down. Conflicts, problems, situations compounded as
I struggled to make sense of my life. My
survivor skills were in high gear that year.
Again and again I felt Him reaching for me until finally He compelled me
to take a chance on Him. Lay down my
life. Shift my paradigms. Face the fear of rejection. He showed me I needed to die for Him to
breathe new life into me.
A kind voice, a simple message, a clear direction. Repent – die.
Be baptized – buried. Be filled
with the Spirit of God – born again.
Simple, but profoundly life changing. To this day, 32 years later, I can’t explain
to someone what happened or how. It’s my
experience alone. I can retell the
story. I can write about it, talk about
it, draw about it. But there are no words
or pictures that can really describe the girl who went into the water and the
one who came out. Not perfect, but
new.
Now, so many Springs later, I still see the joy of life He
has given. Never breaking His word,
never leaving me. There have been dark
and difficult days when it was hard to see how I would ever make my way
through. Poverty of love, money,
abundance of heartache and lack of peace days.
Never has He forsaken me, though I deserved to be left
behind. Never has He let go of me, even
when I tried to pull myself away.
The slightest whisper, the smallest gesture, the minimalist
plea – He has heard. Never turning himself
away from me.
Spring. Easter. Death and life all twisted together. Thanks, God.
I am so grateful.
