Springtime is glorious where we live, and the Easter holiday always fills me with so much gladness. 

But this year, I’m struggling. 

In April my thoughts are typically filled with flowers and colorful cooking and pretty dresses on little girls.  But instead my mind is a dark jumble of images of burned buildings, children sleeping in basements, and grieving mothers standing in lines.

How can this be happening while the tulips bloom and the birds sing, and Peeps are back in stores? 

Why are we witnessing so much death and destruction?

Where can I find my joy when others are suffering an unimaginable fate? 

The dark blanket of the pandemic has been overlaid with the horror of war. 

I brace myself each morning to check the news…wondering if any of my Ukrainian friends has been martyred while serving. 

It’s so much to process while I sit here safely with my daffodils.

When do we get to come up for air?  When is the celebration coming? Where is my Easter joy?

I asked God for the answer, and it came right away: “Later” He whispered.

The true celebration comes later when I finally see Jesus face to face.

And so, I’m trying to find my way this month under this pale of sadness and worry.

Does God want me to still find joy in His promise?  Yes.

Does He want me to still celebrate His resurrection and goodness?  More than ever.
 
So I’m going to get out the table cloths and invite friends and celebrate His promise through the Resurrection.  Because without that promise, all we have is this sadness and confusion. 

But with that promise, we have the hope that cannot be shaken by disease and destruction. 

We have the hope that comes only with Him.  We have the hope for better days and peace and joy for all those He loves so much.