I shared this on Facebook. It’s long enough to be a blog post. Also, Elizabeth is coming on Tuesday. EEK!
Last year on Easter, I was hunkered down in my living room, trying to complete 9 perspective renderings for my Senior Thesis Presentation, three days later. That’s 18 hours of work, on Easter Sunday. I wasn’t going to see my family. I wasn’t going to Church. I was ignoring the day altogether. My roommate invited me to church, I refused. She urged me to come to her family dinner. I refused. After 15 invitations, I agreed – on the stipulation that I be able to keep working in their side room until dinnertime. I went, and I was grateful. I ate wonderful lamb, and laughed at family jokes. I chatted with her parents, while I worked away at my project. I was surrounded, and welcomed.
A year later, and after a wonderful Easter weekend, I am even more grateful. Looking back, I can see that this unassuming girl I lived with was my Church, when I was ready to throw the institution out the window. She was my community, when I gave up trying to find one. She was my Ruth, refusing to leave me in my self-inflicted isolation, no matter my logic.
It’s been a year, and I am giddy in my gratefulness to be surrounded by dozens of loving arms at this time. But words cannot express how much this memory means to me, when I was ready to shut the Christian world out, and had no time for family, Elizabeth refused to leave. Just like Jesus refused to stop, even when they nailed Him to a cross.
He is Risen. He is Risen Indeed.