I sat in the bustling sanctuary yesterday, in the moments before Easter service would begin and we would all shake hands and declare, He is risen! He is risen indeed!  

And I did, as I think I’ve been taught in a lifetime of Easter mornings, I sat and searched my own heart. I peeked cautiously, at first, as though afraid of the revelation awaiting me, there, in the pew, eyes fixed on a cross with a crown of thorns. What does my heart hold, what could be lurking in the dark corners, that is worthy of such things? 

Yet, as I searched the wilderness of my heart, I found the shadowed corners to be only that. Corners. Only quiet places, waiting for what is yet to come.

This morning, my children are still running on the highs of sugar and family and love from yesterday. They’re peeling colored eggs and dusting the shiny whites with sprinkles of salt.

There is no mystery here. No deep and dark, only plain and simple and thin as breath. There is only this sunlit morning, this couch, these children swinging heels under their chairs, cracking egg shells against the wooden table.

There is only this moment, and hope for the next.

My heart has assurance in all the rest.

It’s this simple.

If there’s peace, rest

If there’s love, enjoy

If there’s wildness, embrace

If there’s fear, overcome

If there’s a blank page, write