Easter Sunday I walked barefoot on the beach. I thought I might miss my own church, my family there; and I did on Good Friday. But Easter Sunday we woke up early and drove to the beach for worship just after sunrise. The girls were wearing sundresses and I sat on a picnic blanket and listened to my dad preach. The sun shone on the water and the air was crisp. It was quiet and it was holy and it was just the celebration I needed.
I thought about all the time Jesus spent by the water. I felt the hope he brings, I felt him right there with us, in the midst of all of this life. The hardness, the joy, the sadness, the wonder, the darkness. How he lived it all.
I watched as my dad graced lake water onto my nephews forehead and marked him with the sign of the cross. I confess I usually tear up during baptisms, the holy mystery of it thrills me to the core and the beauty of it shakes me. But on this Easter, watching my nephew I laughed.
Because what Easter showed me this year is love does win. It reminded me that how that happens can be messy and sad and unpredictable along the way. Most certainly the journey will involve broken, flawed, needy people. Most certainly it will involve the same people who also are loving and caring and growing. People who are both. Reminded me of just how crazy and surprising it was that God come down to live among all of us – dying and rising to love us all. And I felt that love and laughed.