This Easter, I asked if she and her new hubby and my beloved granddog, Ragnar, would like to go kayaking with me and my hubby, and then have a cookout afterwards. I was surprised when she readily agreed.
And my daughter who I used to kayak with nearly every day of the summer when she was younger was back in her boat beside me on Resurrection Sunday.
Our sermon yesterday reflected what I had written in my blog Sunday before I ever knew what the pastor would focus on. He spoke of eternal peace, and that it is only found in the truth of the resurrection, which was what I had focused on in my blog as well.
"The Resurrection is real, folks," he said. Most of the rest of the sermon was as profound and well stated as his sermons always are, but I loved that line. The Resurrection of Jesus is the basis of our faith, and without it, there is NO eternal victory over death and our faith is futile.
However, I also see symbols of smaller resurrections planted in my midst to remind me of the BIG Resurrection. Beauty from ashes, hope from despair, grown children forging ways back to their boring, old parents...
Today I go to the sidewalks of the abortion center looking for a similar miracle: the parents forging ways back to their children. I am praying for resurrection of the design and instincts of the mother to protect and care for the child she carries rather than the appointment she has made with death. I go with renewed hope after celebrating Christ's resurrection yesterday on the river, floating on the waves with my family.