Buddhist Catholic Contemplative Evangelical General Christian Hindu Jewish Latter-day Saint Muslim New Visions Progressive Christian

Beliefs

Topics

Columnists

Resource Library

Research Tools

Video

Podcasts

Thought Readers

Faith In Media Tracker

Newsletters

Ad-Free & Subscriber Log-In Subscription Support

Follow Patheos

Cultivating Glory

Home
General Christian
Hello, Easter, My Old Friend

Hello, Easter, My Old Friend

Last updated on: April 9, 2019 at 8:47 am by Christie Purifoy

Hello, Easter, My Old Friend 2019-04-09T08:47:43-04:00 Christie Purifoy

LOGO Patheos Explore the world's faith through different perspectives on religion and spirituality! Patheos has the views of the prevalent religions and spiritualities of the world.

There is nothing, nothing, nothing, until, suddenly, there is everything: a haze of green on the trees, daffodils trumpeting in the breeze, and fruit trees bursting into blossom like popcorn popping.

I keep, without even trying, a growing mental list:

Saucer magnolia (check)
Japanese cherry tree (check)
Apricot tree (check)
Donut peach tree (check)
Early daffodils (check)
Forsythia (check)

I can’t wait to add: tulips, viburnum, and apple blossom.

This is my seventh spring at Maplehurst. It now feels like the return of an old friend.

I write of my first encounter with spring in my new book Placemaker.

I grew up in Texas where spring was a wonderful but very simple affair. It was a brief reprieve from winter chill and summer heat. It was the glory of bluebonnets and other wildflowers along every highway and country road. It was always over too soon.

My first spring after moving from Texas to Virginia was an unanticipated gift:

Before Virginia, I had not known that the prize for enduring a real winter, with its occasional wonderland days and its regular misery days, was an awakening so astonishing it felt as if I learned what the word spring meant for the first time in my life. Spring wasn’t simply a pleasant interlude; it wasn’t merely the chance to catch one’s breath between the ice storm and the heat wave. It was a fulfillment. It was a promise kept, thought I had not even realized a promise had been made. Like winter, the wilderness is always a promise. God leads us in and, one way or another, he leads us out again.

Spring is the fulfillment of winter. Easter is the fulfillment of Lent.

When we are young (in years, in faith) those fulfilled promises astonish us. I can remember experiencing spring in Virginia in a kind of frenzy almost. It seemed too good to be true, and I ran around trying, almost desperately, to soak up every last beautiful detail. It was as if I suddenly held an overflowing cup of water after too long in the desert.

Spring isn’t like that now. Instead, I say, “Oh, it’s you again,” with a smile and a deep sigh of gladness.

Year after year, winter erupts into spring. Year after year, Lenten grief leads to Easter joy, until we greet Easter, not with astonishment, not in a frenzy, but like an old, much-loved friend.

I wonder if that’s how it’s meant to be? Is that the reward for cultivating resurrection in small ways over a lifetime?

It feels as if Easter has settled into my bones. I still ache for it and long for it all winter long, but when it does come, it feels, more and more over the years, as if it never really left.

As if it’s been here, all along.

Previous Post

April 2, 2019

Practicing New Life in the Cruellest Month

Next Post

April 13, 2019 We Aren't Waiting For Resurrection

Browse Our Archives

Select a Category autumn Beauty Books Food Garden Glory Grace Grief Lent links peace Placemaker prayer Roots and Sky Spring Summer Uncategorized Winter

Select a Month November 2019 October 2019 September 2019 August 2019 July 2019 June 2019 May 2019 April 2019 March 2019 February 2019 January 2019

TAKE THE

Religious Wisdom Quiz

Who saw the Lord high and lifted up, with the train of his robe filling the temple?

Select your answer to see how you score.

Jeremiah Daniel Ezekiel Isaiah