Easter Darkness

I sat on the porch with Barney and Rufus this morning watching the full moon, wreathed in mist, set over the far mountains. As the moon set, the sun was beginning to rise across another ridge in the east. A moment of mystery and grace, unseen most days of my life, the rising and setting of our two beautiful sources of light in this world, gave my soul joy this morning. Full moon nights keep Barney busy barking and one of us yelling “Barney, dammit” at least once from the bedroom window. But in the quiet hush of night light setting and day light rising, there was only gratitude and joy in the company of Rufus and Barney. They sat on either side, gazing into the mysterious grey half light darkness seeing and hearing what is invisible to me... the stirrings of life in the darkness.
Lent has lingered overlong this year. In the midst of the journey towards the cross, there have been reminders of life’s limits all around. Friends with cancer, friends with old age illness and approaching death, the spreading of a beloved child’s ashes, parents of friends dying, recognition of changes in my own body that signal a new era, all stirrings in the darkness that encompasses the light of life. As I sit on my soul’s front porch, I ponder the workings of God in all darkness and light.
There are days when I wonder how God could be present in a world filled with suffering and loss. Genocide, children starving, wars and rumors of wars, pirates and terrorists fill me with fear and loathing leaving no room for gratitude or grace. Then, I remember an ad I heard with a little girl’s voice saying “Pray your worries.” Instead of lying awake listing all that is wrong or hurtful, pray your worries. So I resolve to give the gifts I have been given and leave the care of the world in God’s hands. I am not God. In spite of all that is wrong, I do believe God is at work in our world today just as God was working in the world through Jesus two thousand years ago.
As I pray my worries, I remember to give thanks for all I have been given and to do so without smearing false guilt over my thank you’s like jelly on bread. When I have given someone a gift, I despise hearing the words “You shouldn’t have...” as if protesting the intentions of the giver make the gift more acceptable. Somehow I think God would prefer songs of thanksgiving instead of a Judas song that says we are wasteful and others have more need than us. I have been given much, all that I need and most of what I want. I am grateful. Stirrings in the darkness...
Easter comes as a liturgical explosion of light, new life, and new beginnings during the season of spring, itself an explosion of color and new life. Like the little sparrow who has built a nest in my grapevine wreath on the porch, I flutter my wings and fuss, not at people who pass by, but at the darkness. I know there is life beyond the light I can see and I want the meanings of the darkness revealed. The mystery remains, though, and I must live with Easter darkness by faith, gazing with the eyes of faith into the night that remains. So I pray for those who suffer, for those who have died or are dying, for those who walk this world without the gifts I have been given. And I give thanks daily for my life and my place here in the midst of plenty... plenty of food, plenty of beauty, plenty of love, plenty of home and plenty of God. Easter darkness, Easter light...