"Bright" Morning Reflection

Easter Week in the Orthodox Church is called Bright Week.

And the "brightest" day of that week is Monday today.

When the kids were young, Bright Week was a vacation week for them (and me). As homeschoolers, we took the week off and just enjoyed the week.

I recall one Bright Monday where I spent most of the day reading in bed and nursing the baby (Daniel), surfacing long enough to grab some Easter food from the refrigerator.

We typically made enough Easter food to last several days. After all the work of preparing it and the time spent in extra services, we enjoyed the non-work of the resurrection.

Today, we are all at work, "bright" and early.

Today, we are no longer a homeschooling family, and we don't have the luxury of lounging for an entire week, much less a day

But "lounging" was never the point. It was to show the kids, in a tangible way, the "rest" of eternal life.

Although I'm not gonna lie. Lounging in bed reading was a wonderful way to pass a day.

The Best of Times, the Worst of Times

If you were to ask anyone in my household right now, he or she might agree.

Everyone is going through major restructuring at their jobs, and no one is quite certain what that looks like.

So we're a bit tense at home right now. But it occurred to us last night that in a couple of weeks, everyone's routine will be vastly different than it was at the beginning of this month.

I'm not sure about you, but we thrive on routine and the occasional break from it. Developing a routine allows our tasks to run (somewhat) smoothly and provides the most productiveness for us.

So when that is shaken up, we tend to get a little shaken up - at least until we're able to understand what we're doing and mold out a new routine.

Such is our current definition of the worse of times. Now for the best.

Opportunities to learn and expand our skills into arenas we didn't think we could. New routines emerging from the old and giving us new experiences and new ways or looking at our day. 

In a season for us when we're still singing Christ is Risen and will be for a few more weeks, when our minds are on "Behold, I am doing a new thing, now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?" (Isaiah 43:19), which follows with, "I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert," shouldn't we be excited that God takes old routines and "like a robe you will roll them up, like a garment they will be changed." (Hebrews 1:12)

In faith, we are moving in that direction. For now, I think Dickens applies.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way. (Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities)

Illustration by Christopher Gleason for "Staked!"

Goodbye Old Cloth

All I have left of nine months of painstaking work when I had a baby and three rebellious homeschooled youngsters is this out of focus photo.

What is it?

It's an Easter basket cover.

When I married into the Eastern Christian church, I experienced a whole new set of rich Easter traditions and foods. After weeks of strict Lenten fasting, a variety of certain foods (with special recipes to accompany them) were prepared on Holy Saturday, gathered into a decorated basket, and brought to church at midnight (along with a white candle) for resurrection services, to be blessed after services.

Draped over many of these baskets were hand-embroidered cloths. Some of these were very old, family heirlooms.

I wanted to make such a cloth.

Because I suffered from severe all-day sickness with my pregnancies, my sister taught me to crosstitch to pass the time. I made one item for the house and many gifts. But with each passing Easter, what I really wanted to make was this cloth. However, the work and time required to effect it was complicated and beyond my abilities.

After my fourth child was born, I decided the cloth wasn't going to make itself. It took nine months, but I finished it by Holy Week and brought it to a local seamstress to hem. I got it back on Holy Saturday 1991, the eleventh hour, so to speak.

It's gone. We lost it in the move.

The loss bites.

This year marked the third year of no cloth.

Year one we were at my mother's and figured it was packed somewere.

Year two, we had gone through every box, and it was nowhere.

Year three, well, what can I say?

Yes, I know the celebration is more important than textile and colorful thread. But a lot of love for meaning behind the "Christ is Risen!" and for my family, for whom I intended this to be a keepsake, went into every stitch.

It will be hard to replace.