I almost missed St. Patricks Day. I thought it was the same day as the Shamrock Run (last Sunday) and then the race was cancelled so I forgot about the rest of the day. Then on Tuesday my calendar alarm went off that I hadn’t missed it. I felt just a little bit like Ebenezer Scrooge in The Christmas Carol. Except my celebration was more changing into a green shirt rather than dancing down the street in search of Tiny Tim and a Christmas goose.
Because in March 2020, we are living in a strange in-between. We are a people who have taken a breath in and have no idea how long we need to hold it. Will this social distancing last for just three weeks? Or are we looking at the terrifying 18-months that slips out of some pundits’ mouths on television. By good luck and timing I have enough toilet paper to last a few months, but other things like bananas and my sanity will run out long before then. And if distancing become guaranteeing, I question if I’ll remember how to breathe.
If you looked at the title of this blog post, you may be wondering what all of this has to do with Easter. What do a pandemic virus and Purell sold in back alleys have to do with a holiday in April? I’m finding myself thinking not so much about Easter Sunday, but about the day before, one that is called Holy Saturday in the church calendar. Writing this post in 2020, I know how that Saturday turned out, but for the people living those 24 hours, they had no idea. For people who were following Jesus, it was not just this life that was in danger but everything was destroyed: this world and the next. While I am mourning the loss of many things this spring (work with colleagues, time with friends, a race I have been training for, the final graduation for my university), I am only experiencing a sliver of what those disciples grieved.
I understand that Saturday better now, and I hope that I will be able to celebrate that first Easter better when this season is over.
“We are the spark, that will light the fire that’ll burn the First Order down” (Poe Dameron, Star Wars: The Last Jedi). – #52sparks is my year-long writing series for 2020, based on an art prompt challenge. The spark that lights a fire to toast a marshmallow or to ravage a forest begins in the space of an inch. This series is to explore what hundreds of inches and words can do.