The Day After

Yesterday was Easter. Apparently, I am not a good Christian blogger, because I did not write a little something special for the occasion. I guess I was too busy celebrating New Creation with my family.

When I woke up this morning, I glanced through my reading list, and realized that nearly everyone but me apparently takes time out to write about Easter. So, although it's a day late, here's my Easter post.

It's interesting to see how the world goes back to normal after the holidays. We get our time off from work, enjoy the long weekend, eat too much food, and then the day after, we pick up where we left off, and life returns to normal.

Today was like pretty much every crazy Monday in the life of young parents: I was up at 3am for work, the boy was getting into everything, which resulted in a "just to be safe" phone call to Poison Control before Shan left for work. It turns out that shampoo might cause barfing if ingested in large enough quantities. Whether or not Eli did ingest a large enough quantity remains to be seen, but so far, no barf.

While at work, I launched one airplane, which came back broke, launched a second airplane, and re-filled my fuel truck from being left un-filled over the weekend, all before most intelligent and sane people punch in for the day.

The world returned to normal. But it got me to thinking, how we have come to the place where we can return to normal after something like this? How can we return to normal when just yesterday, the Creator of the Universe began the process to make all things new?

Were the Disciples able to "return to normal"? Did they wake up the day after and say, "Wow! What an amazing day yesterday! Well, time to get back to the Lake. Those nets won't mend themselves, you know!"

I doubt it.

I imagine they wandered around Jerusalem half in a daze, looking at one another and shaking their heads. "Did this really happen?" "Did we see what we think we saw?" "Did He really just....?" "I can't believe Thomas did that!"

Luke says that they stayed in the Temple continuously, praising and worshipping God.

I'd be willing to bet that every sunrise took on new meaning for them.

Every breath they took was fresh and new.

Every tree, every building in the city probably glowed with newly discovered life.

Imagine what the gold and bronze in the Temple courtyard looked like to them! It probably burned their eyes with it's new found significance.

What words could they possibly use to worship?

What psalms could they sing adequate praises with?

I think part of our problem is that we forget the significance of the holiday. We forget that it is a celebration of New Creation. We lose sight of the power that Easter represents, and the implications of that power. It becomes just another day to stuff yourself silly with family, take naps, and watch golf, or baseball, or racing, or any other sport that happens to be on.

One of our friends on Facebook commented that she was glad that she managed to celebrate Easter without all that "Jesus stuff".

Really?

We can do that now?

Is that not the whole point of Easter?

How can we separate the two?

If you celebrated Easter without Jesus, then you didn't really celebrate Easter, did you?

We can't separate the two. And we must not let ourselves believe that we can or should just "return to normal" afterwards.

My hope is that through all the days after, all the crazy Mondays, all the early departures and broken airplanes and empty fuel trucks and the pressing schedules and the poison control centers and the shampoo-guzzling contests, through all of these things, that the wonder and the beauty of Easter remains strong, bright and inexplicable to us. That we won't be able to "return to normal". Because the Renewal of all things has begun, and there's no going back.

That's the whole point.


wingnut

Picking a Winner

It was 3:12am when he woke up. He was fussing for some reason, and wouldn't go back to sleep. He probably couldn't breathe very well, he was fighting a cold and was a bit stuffed up.

He was wide awake, we were not. I brought him out to the couch, where we could hopefully both fall back asleep for a while, but he did not. He lay there, on my chest, all calm and relaxed. He was breathing deep, as if he were sleeping.

But when I shifted ever so slightly, he picked his head up and looked at me. He then leaned his forehead in to be kissed, which I dutifully did. I then got up and walked him around the house. As little as two months ago, the walking would have put him clean out in a matter of seconds.

But not tonight. Instead, as I attempted to stumble around in my fatigue without dropping him, he stared at every little light from outside, every little twinkling reflection that caught his eye. He reached for the magnets as we walked by the fridge. He craned his neck to see over my shoulder as we walked by the sink, looking to see if his bottle was ready for him yet. No, buddy, not yet. It's still sleepy time.

He finally calmed down to the point where I wanted him. He was ready to go back to his bed.

As I put him down, he grabbed the collar of my shirt and would not let go. Bad sign. He began to pout, and then whimper as I laid him on his pillow. As I turned for the door, he stood up at the railing and began to cry.

I turned around and picked him back up. I know I shouldn't, but I had to be to work early, and my only goal was to get him quiet enough so that I could sleep. I picked him back up, and walked with him into our room, where our nursery rocking chair was. I began to rock him, another thing that usually puts him right out. But he saw Mommy move to look at us, and wanted to go see her.

So it was just after 3:30am that my wife and I ended up with a one year old in between us.

He seemed to calm down and drift off, and so we did too.

But then he flopped over to me.

Then back over to Shan.

Then back to me, where I held him in a bear hug so he couldn't move. He stopped squirming and lay still.

I felt his hand wrap around my thumb, and he wiggled as close as he could to me.

It didn't matter that I had to be up in an hour, everything was just as it should be. My wife was sleeping next to me, and my child was cuddled up in my arms. I sighed and closed my eyes in peace.

Then I felt a finger on my chin.

The finger stroked my chin, and became a hand which touched my lips. It lingered there for a brief moment, and I was smiling for the touch between father and son.

Then a one year old index finger climbed my upper lip, felt around there for a bit, and plunged itself deep into my left nostril.

Yeah....I love you too, buddy!


wingnut