Easter would not be Easter without Good Friday. The antecedent for resurrection is the bleakest day in Christian history. Jesus came to earth to infuse compassion into a hurting world. But forces conspired against Him. He was betrayed, whipped, murdered. 

Yet that death is not permanent. 

When dawn slides over the hills it becomes clear that nighttime is merely a transition. Which it is.

With the light, comes the epiphany that Jesus is no more dead than the sun. He was gone for awhile, it is true, but His return is as radiant as each pair of blinking eyes can bear to see, spilling over with as much affection as every pounding heart can contain. 

Last night I had a dream about some of the people I love.  One was pitching a tent to live in because her house was uninhabitable. Another was shopping with no shoes. I felt unable to help them. Then I realized that there was cash in my pockets from a quilt I just sold and I could take them out for dinner. Surely they would like that. I invited them with gusto, but they were uninterested. I tried harder, explaining that the money was right in my hands and they hadn't eaten. 

Then I woke up.

It is probably not a coincidence that they are both people I have not given as much attention to as I could have. Lately there have been subtle stirrings to reach out to them, popping up like the resilient crocuses that were not deterred by a triplet of snowstorms. 

Maybe those relationships can be more alive than they currently are.