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spring
Maundy Thursday was the start of what is known as the Easter Triduum — triduum, which is Latin for “three days.” Three days, which include Good Friday and Holy Saturday, in which before we get to the joy of the resurrection, we are reminded how quick we are to betray, to cry “crucify him” and to sink into the depths of despair when we are left in the limbo of loss.
Look for signs of hope. The teachers of resilience offer this wisdom to the storm-tossed, the overwhelmed, the anxious. You may be way ahead of me here, but it’s advice I’m trying to take.
I thought I was prepared for my first mud season in Vermont. I wasn’t. The pastor nominating committee tried explaining that New England’s unofficial fifth season wasn’t for the weak. (Or for a former Manhattanite, is what I think they were really getting at.) Was I ready for melting snow that turned dirt roads into Slip ‘n Slide? I was. Did I have good tires on my car? I did. What about boots? Did I own a sturdy pair? I didn’t.
