Easter is a season about what really matters: life out of death. My grandparents would credit Jesus for bringing life out of death for humanity at Easter. But for their own marriage, they would credit Miller Lite beer.
Each year they swore off beer for Lent. Their marriage would then be stress tested for the next 40 days. When they got home after the Easter service they would line up a 6-pack of cold ones on the kitchen counter. The moment the clock struck noon they would each shotgun a couple of beers. Marital bliss restored: life out of death. Thank you Miller Lite.
My friend Carl’s much more substantive experience with this mystery involves his daughter Anna. She was born in 1974 more than three months premature. Brain-injured at birth, she had cerebral palsy and was unable to walk, talk, or do much of anything for herself. But she was smart, strong and charismatic – with a big smile and infectious laugh that drew people to her. Carl says, “She was my anchor and touchstone and I like to think that I was hers.” Anna died unexpectedly and much too soon in 2006, back when Carl and I worked together.
Last year, Anna was honored at a neighborhood Day of the Dead party in Oakland. The party was held in an old speakeasy where the evening’s pass phrase was: “The Veil is Thin.” Anna’s photo (enclosed) was placed with those of the other departed on an elaborate, makeshift shrine behind the bar. According to Carl, “It was an evening to remember with lots of laughter and tears flowing from the audience to accompany the beautiful, haunting music and storytelling.”
Days later, the host of the party contacted Carl to tell him how drawn he had been to Anna’s photo during the party, coming back to it again and again: “I want to know that woman,” he said. “I’m not sure what it was about Anna’s picture and the way that she looked at me, but it was captivating in a way that words cannot define . . . it was more of a feeling that touched my soul. Viewing her just captivated me . . .I wish I knew her.” Carl remarked that Anna still has that kind of presence more than 11 years after her death “. . . shining through the darkness and bringing light to our lives still”.
Carl is a real writer. He shared with me the following poem about Anna. I believe it is an Easter poem:
hungry we are hungry for connection
let me tell you about Anna
brain broken at birth
who had no stops
inhabiting a body that didn’t
work where words went in
and didn’t come out and all
was said with feelings
that shook you awake how
can you not open yourself to that
not hiding from the love revealed
in no words not capturing you
in her arms but penetrating
your defences with a look
insisting on your presence
her feelings like knives
cutting away half measures
to what you thought you knew
you never knew or imagined
that your time on earth could be
so simple and joyful for even just this
one moment in her presence eyes lit up
seeing you in a way never seen
or thought possible who are you
who are you now when will you see
yourself through her eyes
exposed revealed redeemed
in the touch that she could only give
if touched first what if you too
could put words aside
fiercely surrendering to her
hard-won state of grace
that would be something to celebrate.
Such a hard-won state of grace and something to celebrate indeed. Happy Easter friends!
[If you know others who might enjoy a lighthearted story to begin their week, kindly forward them WordsfortheWeary. The more the merrier.]
So touching and beautiful. Thank you for sharing Anna’s picture and Carl’s poem. And your Easter picture, too, of course; the laughter it sparked help balance the tears.
That is just beautiful. Happy Easter, my friend. He is risen, indeed.