Easter

I don’t have much in the way of words today, feeling heavy-hearted and wistful as I do, and so I am even more grateful than usual to read Katrina Kenison‘s beautiful, lyrical words. Reading them today I feel as though she is speaking (as she did in her lovely book, The Gift of an Ordinary Day) from the turbulent center of all that is unresolved and complicated in my heart. This is an excerpt from her moving, honest post – you won’t regret going to read the whole thing here.

“It is the not knowing what comes next that makes me afraid, the sense of helplessness I feel when confronted with the morning’s grim headlines, a dear friend’s diagnosis, a son’s poor choice. How much better to remember that uncertainty is always part of the picture, fragility part of our human condition. If not for sadness, there would be no joy. Faith wavers, is tested by adversity, and is thus restored. Darkness, an inevitable part of life, is always followed by light.

“Healing,” as Pema Chodron reminds us, “can be found in the tenderness of pain itself.” On this Easter morning I aspire to a small resurrection of the heart. I will get up in a moment, take a walk with my son, go to brunch and read the New York Times. But the real action will take place on the inside, as I remind myself to open, soften, and take the world in just as it is.”