To all my reader friends, Happy Easter!

It’s not the usual Easter, I know. Each household, however small or large, will mourn the traditions that will not be followed, the guests that will not arrive, the community celebrations that will not held—for the second time. Last year it was bearable, somehow. We could do our part for the health of the our community and of our country.

This year, for me, the loneliness feels acute. Our house should be filled with the happy noise of playing children; the kitchen should be crowded with busy adults, making food, cleaning up from meals, telling stories over mugs of hot coffee, answering eager questions from excited children. Somewhere there should be a bouquet of daffodils, in the midst of piles of scrap paper turned into art work. Not this year.

Instead, my heart is comforted by the miracle of an amaryllis bulb, now growing at last after an entire winter of determined dormancy. Several other amaryllis bulbs had kept their long dark leaves from summer (admittedly making no flowers) and did their part to beautify our household. Now, out of the dry dirt and debris of long-gone leaves has arisen the beginning of a flower stalk.

            The growth was so startlingly that I began measuring the stalk every morning.

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 For a few days I hoped that I would get a flower for Easter Sunday, at least some showing of color in the bud.  

Now it’s clear that I shall have to wait until after Easter. I am not complaining. Every stage of that growth is precious and beautiful, each morning a delight. The “dead” bulb has risen to new life.

 The symbols of Easter — the most important holiday in the year for Christians and a celebration of spring for others — all suggest newness and astonishing (maybe astonished) life. The shell of an egg, whether painted or no, contains (or did once contain) that which nourishes life. Had the egg been hatched, the chick would not resemble the egg in the slightest. That is a miracle. The happy unwrapping of foil or opening of decorative boxes reveals chocolates which sometimes contain delectable fillings within, yet another surprise; pretty baskets contain eggs of all sorts, including plastic ones that contain who knows what little treasure. The most powerful symbol of all, the empty tomb, speaks to the transformation of death into new life. Life cannot be contained; it will burst forth, it will begin anew.

 With that hope, I wish you all a Happy Easter! May you be mindful of the gifts that are given. May your heart be gladdened by beauty. May your hands hold tenderly some symbol of joy and love.

“The very first Easter taught us this: that life never ends and love never dies.”

Kate McGahan