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Humor

Easter

This is becoming part of my Easter tradition, reading this. I offer it again, in case this day is killing you with happiness 🙂.

Easter During COVID-19

Grace and peace to you…

Categories
Humor the real self

Dried apricots

My New Year’s non-resolution was to get up early enough to have time to write before I start work. You know, like serious writers are supposed to do…if you read all the books…(which I don’t).

I’m doing quite well with Part A – getting up early. For me, this is almost a miracle.

No, it is a miracle.

Part B has been another matter. I thought Part B had to do with this blog and my other blog (piano music) or maybe even a new blog I have in mind. It hasn’t turned out that way.


I’m an introvert whose life is way too busy. One generation before me, one just even with me, and two behind me – that’s a lot of people right there. No way am I missing out on all that fun. No way am I turning into an old codger.

(Codger – haven’t thought of that word in a long time.)

Where does an old potential-codger introvert, surrounded by generations of people, find a little nook in the space-time continuum to put one’s feet up, stare off into the distance, and realize how many muscles are knotted up and pinpoint exactly where they are?


I eat a lot of dried apricots – helps me keep my potassium from going low. (I get mine from Trader Joe’s – by far the best place I know of for dried fruit.) Some are soft and sweet and some are hard and don’t taste like much.

I become the second kind. When I don’t have time to myself. To just be and just do whatever my dried apricot soul feels like being and doing.


That’s what Part B has turned into.

And the surprise I wasn’t expecting:

my soul has been feeling like writing emails to people in those generations around me, connecting with them in new ways about what is going on in their lives;

praying for them much more than I ever had before

(and, alas, for people like Mitch McConnell and Donald Trump and Vladimir Putin, who I don’t even like to include in the same paragraph);

and just thinking about them and letting joy happen.


That’s it. My New Year’s non-resolution, unbeknownst to me and not part of my plan:

Make a little nook of space and time to let joy happen.

Grace and peace to you…

dw

Categories
Humor Other Writings

Easter During COVID-19

I hope you will bear with me for a little fun – not to be taken too seriously (but maybe somewhat seriously).

Grace and peace to you this unusual Easter day…

dw

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Oh God, this is the best Easter ever! No church!

Normally, I can’t bear the thought of going to church. Maundy Thursday, Good Friday…I’m all for it. I can happily be miserable. But Easter…can’t bear it.

Everyone miserable trying to muster a match for Easter expectations:

Smiling song leaders sweating bullets because they needed one more rehearsal and George, the only tenor who knows the music, is out with the flu, and Rodney, the visiting soloist, is rocking back and forth on the input to the bass amp. It’s popping like a pistol.

Clergy waving arms and wafting voices, straining with all their might to conjure the warm, joy-filled community-hug emotion slated for this day in the church calendar.

Parents, shooting for a color-coordinated, tidy, choreographed family photo before the Easter egg hunt, when the older kids scold the less older kids for not letting the little kids get the easy ones.  (Why is everyone always miserably squinting in Easter photos?)

What could be more miserable than a day when a couple billion people are supposed to be happy and aren’t exactly sure why or how to comply?

The only thing they know for sure is that the reasons given are not sufficient.

They have known this since childhood.

Yes, what the clergy tell us makes theoretical sense, but the supporting data is hard to come by.

That is why the Easter bunny is trotted in, and cute little chicks, and fancy hats and handbags. If the reasons given aren’t sufficient, surely these extras will motivate enough positive response to get through the morning sufficiently buzzed.

Who said Easter is supposed to be happy, anyhow? How can it possibly be happy with frikin’ COVID-19 and North Korea and Syria and Mitch McConnell?

The first Easter wasn’t much better:

  • the only God I could touch and be sure of just died and now I have hardly a clue what to do with this guy who appears out of nowhere
  • this guy I don’t recognize, but then suddenly I do
  • who lets me touch his hands and his side, but won’t let me hold onto him
  • who eats fish but passes through closed doors
  • who says he will be with me forever as he disappears forever in a cloud
  • all the while telling me to spend my life convincing others to spend their lives convincing others to spend their lives convincing others…

This does not make for a happy day.  This is a ‘Really? I mean, really?‘ day.

Easter slams the door on the notion any of us is getting out of this with our lives intact, either the way they are now or the way we’re fixin’ for them to be.

It means I can’t forget all about this nonsense and go back to fishing.

It means God is coming after us. Eternally.  No escape.

Easter means I can’t ignore it when God asks, “Do you love me? Enough to follow me, sight unseen? To listen to the wind and act on what you hear? To wait when all say “Go” and go when all are waiting?”

Easter is God calling some 2 billion odd people to get out of the blasted boat and start walking to him on the water – for one and only one reason:  “Do you love me, more than you love…whatever?”

Not a happy day at all. A swallow-hard, breathe-into-a-bag kind of day.

Oh God, Easter again. What am I going to do with You?

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