with a love like that.

Even

After

All this time

The sun never says to the earth,

"You owe

me."

Look

What happens

With a love like that,

It lights the

Whole

Sky.

-Hafiz

And so I strive for this kind of love, hope for redemption and light and beauty and purpose...

A friend reminded me this weekend that there can be peace in the marriage of discontent and hope. I certainly feel both discontented and filled with hope, but I don't always allow these sentiments to coexist in peace. I have a hard enough time letting this apparent contradiction exist within me, which is far from an actual embrace of it as healthy and good. But I want to reach for the embrace. I want to live in that space of peace.

And I want to do so with a love like that.

Let us light the whole sky, my friends.

photographs and some thoughts on resurrection.

I let more time slide by than I intended before getting this post up, but no matter. Here are some lovely moments from Easter with my parents. There was quite a lot of baking and cooking, much laughter and good conversation and, of course, joy in the celebration of resurrection.

Home is a good place to be.

For as long as I can remember, my mother has baked wonderful croissants from scratch for Easter, and this year, I wanted to help with the whole process to receive a thorough education on making this ever-so-delightful food.

There was much folding and flour and sticky hands and, of course, a whole lot of butter.

And then there was this:

Glorious. What a woman, my mother! And look how lovely!

We then made this tart:

And we ate and enjoyed and rejoiced.

It was a happy Easter indeed.

And now, since we're on the subject anyway, I have a few more belated Easter thoughts to share...

On my 14-mile run this Saturday (25K, I am ready for you!!), I listened to Rob Bell's Easter Sunday sermon. The whole thing was wonderful (and is available free on iTunes), but one part in particular that gripped me was his reflection on the image of rebirth, an image that, as we see in the gospels, the early followers of Jesus really latched onto. And no wonder--we are all so enamored by a tiny, newly born baby. Part of that joy and fascination, Rob Bell suggested, comes from recognizing the vast amount of possibility that exists for that little human being. She has all of life before her--she could go anywhere and be anything--and nothing behind, no pain or guilt or betrayal. There is only endless, beautiful possibility.

So there I was, rounding a bend on the far side of Reeds Lake, in tears because that image captured me so. And then Rob Bell came to the point of the analogy: this is the rebirth of the gospel. This is what Jesus's death and resurrection offer to us. This possibility is ours as well.

And this is what I so deeply desire. This kind of rebirth, this kind of possibility, this kind of hope.

And there is yet another element to that hope, the sermon reminded me. The resurrection was not something that Jesus's followers expected, which opens a question for us: what else does God have for us and for this world that we do not expect??

As I reflect on this once more tonight, I am giving thanks for the glory of the resurrection.

I am reminded that life is filled with hope and beauty and possibility.

And I am not giving up.