so this is easter.

*updated to include the pic now; thanks for fixing it, Jase! 

I have pretty pictures to upload here.

Of eggs, dyed lovely colors. And I have a thumbnail that is dyed orange to prove that I, along with some friends, dyed those eggs.

And even decorated them in a way that used wax and candles and made you feel a kinship with those wonderful Ukrainians who invented the method in the first place. And if I could remember the name of that method, I would enlighten you, but alas, all I recall is that it is a word that is long and it employs the ‘aaaa’ sound.

But I cannot upload those pictures. Perhaps my brother Jason, who is much smarter than me, can tell you why sometime. Or perhaps he can just fix it for me.

Ahem.

But I can tell you that this is Easter Sunday. That there are many people who have said many things about this day and I think I’d like to add something of my own. And it’s something about how this day is just another day, yes, but what if we thought about this day like falling in love?

You know, all those conversations it took. All those thoughts about him that were so big and loud inside, you were sure the person standing right next to you could hear the mayhem too. And that’s why you couldn’t believe it when they said what? and you said oh, nothing. and they took that at face value and moved on to the weather.

Because it wasn’t nothing and you were smiling, and that’s something, anyway.

But my point is that love is a multitude of little bits of color until you can’t see much of anything but those bright spots anymore. And you wonder why nobody tapped you on the shoulder to tell you, shhhhhhhh, it’s starting, because surely you would have dedicated a few more journal entries to the feeling if you had known that that was what you were feeling.

And see, winter happened and it was good, but it wouldn’t be good if it happened forever, you know: because spring has to happen. And maybe you didn’t notice the first crocus you saw because maybe you were too busy being late to wherever it was you were going, but then you find yourself walking outside, and walking cautiously, because now there are so many flowers, you have to try not to step on their silky little heads.

And so it is with Easter.

There were signs of a God and his love all over the place, but then he did something bold and crazy and different and it stood out. Just like in that movie About a Boy, when the kid sings Killing Me Softly for his school’s talent show and well, it’s awful. Just terrible. Nobody likes it and everybody wants it to be over. But then Will, the main character, steps into the song with him. He stands on that stage, fills it out with his presence, and suddenly the boy is no longer alone, dejected, and owning every reason for embarrassment in the book.

Suddenly he is loved.

And maybe that’s what God did. Maybe Jesus had heard us singing our pitiful, awful songs for a very long time and instead of just hitting the mute button on humanity and turning on his Ipod, he did something shocking. He learned our song. He jumped up on to the stage with us. And by doing so, claimed us as his own.

Ooh, and here’s the good part: he made the song beautiful. And taught us the better lyrics, the better melody, a life that sounds a lot like harmony.

And just like spring has to happen, God has to happen. Or rather he makes us happen. And these are rich, beautiful happenings. They carve out our hearts until we resemble those old walls that are filled with hieroglyphs; and they tell stories that take our breath away. And nobody wants to tear those walls down, for they are too beautiful; they came at a price, but with each etch and mark, slash and chisel, they have become priceless.

And these stories on the walls of our hearts are love stories, I think. Every one of them. And despite the fact that I can point out some reasons as to why I think love is dumb anyway, I still believe in it.

But all of this has something to do with Easter.

Which is why I can say Happy Easter.

Which is why I am even happy to say it.