Remembering Easter Week

    It’s been a while! This summer marks three years of living life and seeking normal in the United States. I haven’t figured it out. But I have realized that writing helps, so I’m going to do more of that. Putting my thoughts here sometimes feels like I’m writing to a void, but if you’re a human and you’re reading this, I'm grateful. I'm just looking for a place for my thoughts to belong. I’m working on a new title, too, so stay tuned. 

    Easter week holds a wide range of emotions for me and at the close of Holy Week, they're feeling a little more pronounced. I have happy memories of childhood celebrations with my grandmother and immediate family. Chocolate and celebrations of Christ’s resurrection are closely associated in my core memories, which can’t be a bad thing. In adulthood, learning how to celebrate with new traditions has been a difficult process. When I approach this week, though, several key memories from the recent past are on my mind. Near the beginning of my time in Germany a colleague passed away suddenly on Easter Sunday morning. She had gone in for a major surgery, developed an infection and celebrated Easter in the presence of Jesus. While I couldn’t be happier for her to be where she is, that was my first Easter heartache. I didn’t know her as well as some, but I mourned with and for my friends who were very close to her. The sudden loss was gutting. Three years ago in the midst of a global pandemic, many of my colleagues and I received the news that a former student had passed away while sleeping in his college dorm room. No degrees, training, or orientations can prepare you for this kind of news. That Easter Sunday morning was the first time that we were able to sing as a community in many months and we cried and sang and grieved together. Last year, I spent the majority of Holy Week in the hospital. Emergency surgery wasn't how I planned to spend good Friday and I grieved the trauma and pain that my body had experienced. But afterwards I experienced resolution to pain that I had been living with for years.  I believe that loss makes a place for something new. When you say that to the rising college freshman it rings with hope. But when you are holding space with grieving family and friends the tone is so different. I think it’s the latter version that I’m feeling this week. Grief and loss compound and I think that in order to look to the future well, it is necessary to feel the depth of these losses. To anticipate what is to come, I need to level with my losses. To comprehend the power of the resurrection, I need to understand the depth of my own need. 

    Recently I have been in a season of processing and change in my life that some might call a dessert season. It seems that every week there is something new to process, change, and work on. It has been hard work and I often wish that it was over. The other day I mentioned to a friend that I am so ready to see who I will be on the other side of this. This has been further heightened by a significant health journey in my immediate family. While this journey has not had the same felt impact as sudden news of loss, I feel the newness that is coming, and the rawness and vulnerability that a season like this can bring. I have grieved, cried and prayed, and I look with hope to the resurrection, the finished, loving work that Christ has done for me. I feel the depth of loss and I trust Him to finish the work that He has begun.