Heaven on earth

"Now when these things begin to happen, look up and lift up your heads," reads one of my favorite Easter verses. Consequently, my head is always in the clouds. I am fascinated by the ever-changing vista above.

Dark swirling clouds shroud the sun.

Puffy clouds glide past.

Single seagull circles on a cloudless day.

Reach up and touch the sky.

Beyond the blue.

Heaven on earth.

An Easter reminiscence: Rescue at sea

At this holiest time of year, it is natural to be drawn to the seashore. Many of the Gospel passages place Jesus Christ’s whereabouts near the sea. I am a believer, and I feel His presence here. This is holy ground.

After the Resurrection, St. John writes, “Later, at the sea of Tiberias, Jesus showed himself to the disciples… Just after daybreak Jesus was standing on the shore, though none of the disciples knew it was Jesus… Then the disciple Jesus loved cried out to Peter, ‘It is the Lord!’”

In another passage in the Gospel of St. Mark, he writes that “when evening came, the boat was out on the sea, and (Jesus) was alone on the land. And He saw that they were distressed in rowing, for the wind was against them… He came to them, walking on the sea… He spoke to them and said, ‘Take heart, it is I; have no fear.’ And He got into the boat with them and the wind ceased. And they were utterly astounded.’”

Two thousand years later, I walk along the water’s edge and remember the many times I cried out to the Lord from this very place.

A young newlywed, I recall the night my new husband and brother went fishing and did not return. I still remember the anguish, countless prayers and call to the Coast Guard. They were towed in by the Tiverton Harbor Patrol around midnight, after being entangled in the ropes of a lobster pot near Nannaquaket.

Thirteen years ago, I drove to the summer house on a glorious sunny summer’s day. When I arrived, I was told that my father and brother had taken my youngest son out on the sailboat. But out of the blue, there was a violent lightning storm.

We immediately drove down to the ramp, but they were nowhere in sight. We followed the Sakonnet River by car all the way to Nannaquaket, but all in vain. At this point, my mother, my daughter and I began crying hysterically. I prayed incessantly, pleading for God’s help.

We called the Coast Guard who had great difficulty understanding our plight because we were crying so hard. I called my husband back at home who raced to Tiverton.

After what seemed like hours, the Coast Guard called to say that the Tiverton Harbor Patrol had found them. The sun was shining when they were towed in.

The following fall, my 12-year-old son told the story of his rescue at sea in a school composition:

“My uncle and I and my grandfather were planning to use our sailboat. We watched the Weather Channel to see the weather forecast and the water currents. It said it was going to be fine weather to go sailing. We went to the docks at 9:30. The sun was shining, and the water was choppy. It was very good weather to go sailing. We had a small, 14-foot sailboat. We put it into the water, and my grandfather brought the car to the parking lot. My uncle and I got in the sailboat and waited for my grandfather. He came and our adventure started. Once we got out there, the wind picked up and we were having a good time. Then it started to pour. We were out on the bay, and we could not see anything. We had no idea where we were going. Then it started lightning, and we needed to get out of the water. We had an 18-foot aluminum sail. It was just like a lightning rod. We came upon an island, and we waited. An hour passed, then another. We were so cold and wet. We decided to go even though it was still lightning really badly. We were on our way back. Lightning hit the water right next to us. The wind died, and we were stranded in the middle of the ocean. My grandfather was soaked. We needed to get him warm. After a while, the Tiverton Harbor Patrol found us. So they gave us a rope, and I tied it to the front of the boat. It took them a half an hour to tow us in. We finally made it to shore. My mother was crying because she didn’t know if we would make it back. Everyone was so happy when we made it. After this, I will never believe the Weather Channel again. I don’t know if I will go on the sailboat ever again.”

Sometimes, the Lord walks on water and calms the sea, as well as our fears. Other times, He sends his angels, the Tiverton Harbor Patrol, to rescue us.

On this Easter Sunday and every day of my life, I know He lives.

   

Easter is new life, new hope

Many years ago, a friend of mine told me that her parents would wake her every Easter morning with the words: “Arise! The Lord is risen!”

I thought it was a beautiful tradition, and I began waking my children the same way.

Today in churches around the world, Christians will marvel at the 2,000-year-old retelling of the Resurrection story from Matthew 28:1-7:

“After the Sabbath as the first day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdalene came with the other Mary to inspect the tomb. Suddenly there was a mighty earthquake, as the angel of the Lord descended from heaven. He came to the stone, rolled it back, and sat on it. In appearance he resembled a flash of lightning while his garments were as dazzling as snow. The guards grew paralyzed with fear of him and fell down like dead men. Then the angel spoke, addressing the women: ‘Do not be frightened. I know you are looking for Jesus the crucified, but He is not here. He has been raised, exactly as he promised. Come and see the place where He was laid. Then go quickly and tell His disciples: He has been raised from the dead and now goes ahead of you to Galilee, where you will see Him.’”

Every year I pin an old Easter card on my bulletin board with the message:

“Easter is … new life, new hope – that all things can change, that we have another chance to glow and grow and share the life of the Lord with each other!”

Eggs symbolize new life, and they are everywhere. We dye them spring colors with our children and hide them in our yards for the little ones to find. We bake them in our breads.

Beautiful flowers also remind us of springtime and new life. Easter lilies adorn our church altars. Daffodils and tulips poke through the earth and brighten up our landscape.

In addition, new life is depicted by baby animals – downy yellow chicks; soft cuddly bunnies; and sometimes playful puppies.

Last week my husband visited the local shelter looking for a large dog to fill our kennel, vacated by the loss of our Jack Russell terrier last fall. But instead he rescued a tiny 21-week-old, 8-pound Yorkie mix that he named Buddy.

He had dirty, long, matted, white strands of hair and sad dark eyes.

The caretaker of the pound told my husband that the Yorkie was abandoned, found in a box by the side of the highway.

As I write this, Buddy is curled up nearby.

All things can change. Easter means a second chance for Buddy and for us.

Easter at our house

There is a flurry of activity around us. Buds bust out of tree limbs, birds make nests, insects buzz by.

”Our Lord has written the promise of resurrection, not in books alone, but in every leaf in springtime,” said Martin Luther.

 In preparation for Easter, I wash windows, hang summer curtains, dust furniture, shop for groceries, cook for days, set the table for 17, affix a bunny to the front door, put up a bright red geranium flag, and tie colorful plastic Easter eggs to the trees.

Two tables will be pulled together to accommodate family and friends. We are all believers: Roman Catholics, Protestants and Mormons.

Instead of the traditional Easter ham, I will serve turkey with all the fixings, beginning with a fresh fruit cup topped with rainbow sherbet, homemade chicken soup filled with three peppercorn fettuccine, mixed greens with homemade French dressing, roast turkey, Mom’s green peppers stuffed with Grandma’s chourico dressing, mashed potatoes, Dawn’s green beans, carrot matchsticks cooked in broth, pickles and olives, cranberry sauce, and for dessert, Joey’s birthday cake with ice cream.

The Mormon missionary will say the blessing.

“Of all the victories in the chronicles of humanity, none is so great, none so universal in its effects, none so everlasting in its consequences as the victory of the crucified Lord, who came forth from the tomb that first Easter morning,” said President Gordon B. Hinckley of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in “Images and Testimonies of The Living Christ.”

It is Holy Week; we carried palm branches through the streets of Jerusalem, ate the Last Supper in the upper room, fell asleep in the Garden of Gethsemane, wept at the foot of the cross, and now rejoice in the presence of the Resurrected Christ.

Holding a tiny hand, we will walk outside in search of colored Easter eggs. Yellow daffodils wave in the breeze. Pink azalea bushes are in full bloom, while the rhododendron buds strain in their casings.

The eggs will be unearthed: tucked in flower beds, inside oak tree roots, planted in the kitchen garden, hiding under pine needles. The basket will be brimming with blue, green, yellow, pink and purple eggs. The toddler will grab an egg with his tiny fist and scream with delight as it opens.

“If we attend to the witnesses with listening hearts and open ourselves to the signs by which the Lord again and again authenticates both them and himself, then we know that he is truly risen,” said Pope Benedict XVI in “Jesus of Nazareth – Holy Week: From the Entrance into Jerusalem to the Resurrection.” “He is alive.”