Each day I awake to newness, the light brightening, yesterday behind me, the darkness being overcome, life awakening.
I glance at the driveway where the puddle from yesterday has disappeared, only to reappear tomorrow when the clouds drop their rain.
I hear the frogs by the pond with their ribbits and croaks. Where were they last month? Dormant and hiding away down in the mud. Yet now they are here, living again.
And the tree that appeared to be dead a week ago is now full of buds breaking out into blossoms. Where did this beauty come from? It seemed so hopeless and ugly. In the autumn, the brown leaves fell and crumpled on the floor of the woods, getting out of the way to make room for the new, fertilizing the soil to support more life.
And that acorn that was lying on the ground last fall wasn’t just food for a squirrel. It has now sprouted into the beginnings of an oak tree.
An astronomer tried to explain to me that the death of a star isn’t really death. The star does not really die, but it produces other elements, needed elements, that are essential to more life.
And those moments where I have “died” a little on the inside have actually been moments of production. My pain created help for someone else on the same journey. My life, given up, helped my children find their life. My letting go yielded freedom for myself, as well as others.
The earth absorbs death in order to create more life.
Death creates life.
Life creates life.
Have I recognized the resurrection? Have I believed?
Leave a Reply