Trust your instincts and bunnies

The sun almost compensated for the brisk breezes on Easter – but the chill winds didn’t stop us from enjoying cigars on the deck after an exceptional afternoon that included smoked ribs, Caesar salad, fancy hors d’oeuvres, deviled eggs (some betraying a bit of the bunny’s dye!), and a sterling victory by Michigan’s basketball team over Florida. I’m grateful to my friends for their hospitality – and the basket bearing my name that included their homemade maple syrup.

Easter is a bigger deal than Christmas within the Christian faith but, on average, it doesn’t evoke the same buzz as the December holiday. Maybe it’s because the commemoration of a birth is more accessible intellectually and emotionally than the prospect of resurrection. Everyone is born; only one resurrected (I don’t mean any disrespect to Lazarus – but his resurrection didn’t atone for all of mankind). The buildup to Christmas is Advent – a season of anticipation; the buildup to Easter is Lent – a season of penance and reflection. Christmas traditions often include trees, wreaths, lights, feasts, gifts, carols, Santa and Rudolf; Easter brings remembrance of the Passion of Christ and the solemnity of Good Friday – with a bunny, candy, and dyed eggs offered for counterpoint. Somehow it doesn’t seem fair.

Easter’s challenge is one of faith – accepting the intersection of God and man in a way that is beyond our scope of understanding. It’s tough – even Scripture acknowledges our doubt through the story of Thomas.

Tonight, I saw a familiar truck in Howard’s driveway on my way home: his son’s. I continued on my way not wanting to interrupt their visit. Something told me to turn around and less than a mile past I backtracked for a visit. For some reason, I believed it to be the right decision to go back despite knowing that Howard had family present.

And it was. Brent met me at the door and shook my hand like an old friend. Hellos all around and Howard updated me on his condition while Brent and his friend Melanie tidied the kitchen from dinner. Soon, Melanie, Brent and I were a semi-circle around Howard enjoying his stories and admonishing him to call on any of us (he shared that he had had a very bad spell last night and he hadn’t called anyone for help). There is potential for some medical procedures later in the week, but Howard doesn’t know if he’ll comply – either way, I trust his judgment despite bemoaning his stubbornness.

I didn’t stay long and Brent walked me out to my car. He was genuinely appreciative that I’d visit his father and I told him it was my pleasure. I was able to give him my contact information and he agreed to let me know if there was any news of substance. We embraced – any doubt that stopping by was the right decision evaporated.





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