Easter is coming. Growing up, I never really got too excited about it, unless we were going to spend it in the Tri-Cities with my grandparents. It was always warm and sunny there – a far cry from the chilly rain we usually experienced Easter Sunday in Seattle. But as far as the bunny and egg thing, it was just kind of strange to me.
As I got older, really after I began a walk of faith with Jesus, Easter became more meaningful. Over the years it’s become one of my very favorite holidays and I love the faith-based tradition and beauty of it all.
This year, however, I am reminded of loss. My usual zeal and excitement is waning and I feel a little off.
Last March I extended an olive branch to a loved one I hadn’t spoken to in a year. Easter Sunday my son would be on stage at our church, and I felt as though they might want to see him. And truly, it felt like an easy way to perhaps mend the fences that had been broken. My invitation was accepted and the relationship began to heal. At least on my part, speaking only for myself, it began to change form.
But, we are again at an impasse. Even with the understanding that the two of us together doesn’t seem to be healthy, there is still a huge part of me that longs for reconciliation.
Easter represents new life, a fresh start. Last year it signified the beginning of healing with another. This year it seems my holiday will begin a new stage of life without them. I always tell my kids to trust God and to trust the process. Perhaps it’s time I do the same…