Last Sunday was Easter. The holidays are a time to reflect. Christmas is often hard on those in mourning. It makes me think of the presents I won't be buying and the child or children who could be here around our Christmas feast but aren't. Easter is a different matter. I am not as keenly aware of those who aren't here, or at least those I can't see. It brings to mind rebirth, the time of year when those things that have grown cold and dark, the trees and plants that have closed down for the winter, come to vibrant life again. It brings to mind the birthing of a new generation of baby animals. And it brings to mind the resurrection of our Lord and, thereby, the hope for resurrection of those we love.
The two days are really two halves of the same holiday. One celebrates mortal birth, the birth of our Savior. That can be hard for those who are keenly aware of babies they can't hold. The other celebrates His rebirth, the other end of His mortal life when He left and came back. Because He did this, I know that I will hold my baby again. I know she and her younger, miscarried siblings will come back into my life some day. It's a time for hope, a time to celebrate life, the Lord's life and the short life of my baby. For this reason, among others, I love Easter and spring most of all times of the year.
