Slipping Past Easter Storms
From the creaking porches of rural red-dirt East Texas farmers: ”It’s just the way it is. Always storms.” No matter the day Easter falls on – no matter where in the month it appears – just before Easter, expect bad storms.
The storms are sent as a reminder of what Easter is: a rescue from terrible existence, evil, or whatever. Sacrifice. The world in grief. Forgiveness: unexpected, unbelievable, unconditional. Resurrection of hope and an offer of salvation. To drowning mankind, out the storm: rescue, pulled to safety. Whether it’s Nature just doing some pruning before bursting into new growth, or Mother Earth issuing a reminder that man is just a speck in the wind and not the pilot of this spaceship….or a more organized religious, spiritual occurrence, the yearly storms are real.
Look to past years. Look at this year.
Tornadoes. Persistent storm lines whirling across the central states from Arkansas north.
Not dribbles. Not sprinkles. Not trickles.
Not sweet spring breezes playfully tossing flowers as children fly kites and picnic.
Ripping houses apart – tossing cars instead of light spring dresses.
Fire storms raging and consuming multiple states’ grasslands
Just in time to jeopardize spring calving; nesting grounds for migrating birds
Late snow blankets
Forestalling early spring planting – chilling the ground as well as hope.
But humans flee indoors and adapt – only to face the other storms:
Waves of combatants. Firestorms of bullets
Torrents of intolerance
Roars of intrusions
Surely as damaging as lightning
No security blankets here.
But the older folks of the tin roofed houses and self-reliant attitudes, offer this: after each storm, there’s always a rainbow – it’s a promise that no matter what has happened, things will get better. It’s a promise to count on.
So, today, while picking up egg shells broken, consider other addressing other fragile things. Maybe instead of just enduring the storms of controversy and firestorm politics, maybe work to reduce the damage. Trickles of kindness. Mindful mists of “walking in the other one’s shoes”. Healing ocean waves of consideration. And an extended arm out of the storm: just a willingness to listen and go halfway: not more than half – or less – just halfway. (and don’t expect or insist the other to always agree). A boat load of life jackets – a recognition that everyone is different and an honest acceptance of that. I don’t have to be you. You don’t have to be me.
Just let be.
Somewhere in the storms, the ability to simply agree to disagree – and still get along – has gone down.
As the storms abate, perhaps it will be found.
The rainbow is promise.
Want to go see?
Phil, the Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge