Down to the River: An unconventional Easter sunrise service

Then the women went away quickly from the tomb, their hearts filled with awe and great joy, and ran to give the news to his disciples.

—Matthew 28:8 PHILLIPS

I arose early on Easter morning and decided to take a walk. As I started out, something stirred in me and I took off running. I am not a runner, so this was odd, but it felt good to run even for a little while, freeing and exhilarating.

My goal was to worship at the water’s edge, but making it to the beach could be a problem. As I had expected, I came upon an obstacle in my path—electrified barbed wire. Normally used to contain cattle in pastures for grazing, it was keeping me from venturing farther. I could see the river in the distance but couldn’t get to my desired sanctuary. I longed to see the sunlight dance like diamonds on the surface, hear the waves lap upon the shore, the rhythm of the river lulling my spirit to a place of peace.

Perhaps I could unhook the three strands that blocked my passage. Carefully, I removed the lower wire and placed it on the ground while it snapped and cracked at me, boasting its powerful punch. Then I attempted to remove the middle strand but found I didn’t have the strength to maneuver the hook out of the wired eye. Now what?

Turn the Light on

I am the Lord; I have called you in righteousness;

I will take you by the hand and keep you;

I will give you as a covenant for the people,

a light for the nations,

to open the eyes that are blind,

to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon,

from the prison those who sit in darkness.

—Isaiah 42:6-7

I pulled my sunglasses from my beach bag and joined my daughter, Emma, who was sitting on the edge of the baby pool, keeping an eye on her two-year-old, Layla. With temperatures in the nineties, it felt good to sink my feet into the silky liquid. It felt good to be with family, basking in the brightness. I thanked God for my blessings—especially the blessing of Grandparents Day, which meant free admission to the water park for me.

With gladness written all over her face, Layla pranced and twirled before us. She grabbed the hand of a little boy, who wore a green sun hat, and coaxed him to join her in the dance. Emma and I laughed at their escapades, but not nearly as much as the green hatted boy’s parents. Layla made her way to a friendly whale and climbed upon its back. Her smile broadened as she slid down its slippery tail, landing in the water with a splash. Crawling along the bottom of the pool with her hands, as her legs floated behind her, she called out to us, “I’m swimming!” 

Finally, we could resist the excitement no longer and lowered our bodies into pool. At about the same time as we slipped into the water, the sun slipped behind a cloud, turning the brightness noticeably dim. Layla looked around, furrowing her brow. “Turn the light on,” she said.

A Valentine Surprise

“Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices; my body also will rest secure.”

—Psalm 16:9

I told her “no.”

But here I was, two hours later, asking myself, Do you really want to spend Valentine’s night alone? I already knew the answer, but I worried about the impending winter storm. Should I really travel the distance in my car with malfunctioning heat? All the newscasters were warning viewers of the dangerous “feels like” temperatures.

But it’s sunny now. Leave while there’s still daylight, and you’ll keep warm in the sun, I tried to convince myself, And dress in layers and bring a blanket and pray.

But I should stay and work more on my writing, I argued.

I had just finished the Afterword for the devotional I was writing. Now I was scrolling through the Facebook news feed, trying hard not to envy all my friends who were spending Valentine’s with their sweethearts and showing off their lovely bouquets of roses.

I had hoped this year would be different for me, for God knows I've prayed about my situation over and over again. One of the hardest parts about being single—and an empty-nester—is not getting hugs on a regular basis. There are times when my craving for affection is like an extreme thirst—like how I get after taking some of my medicine, which makes my tongue as dry as dust . Try as I might, I just can’t quench the thirst.