“I’m stuck,” I said.
“How so?” she asked. “Primarily, Easter.” “Hmm.” “Well. Our church decided to offer several Easter services, but they’re all going to be inside with masks and the social distancing thing. So, you have to sign up for tickets. I got online too late and there aren’t any seats available. There is going to be an outside service, but it’s simply a streaming of the inside service. I guess I might as well stay at home and watch it on my computer.” “You could try going somewhere else.” “Wouldn’t be the same.” “What is ‘the same’?” “You know what I mean.” “I guess?” “I want some things to be the same! Isn’t that okay. Something—like Easter—must be the same as it always has been.” “Sure.” “Okay smart ass, what plans do you have for Easter?” “Nothing.” “What you mean, nothing? Aren’t you at least going to watch a service online?” “No.” “Why not?” “Why?” “Damn you. You always talk in questions, riddles, and circles. Don’t you ever have a straight answer for anything?” “Easter Sunday morning, I am going to do the same thing I do most every Sunday morning.” “Which is?” “Get up before the sun rises. Journal my dreams. Make coffee. Read. Write.” “Don’t you go to church? Or at least watch church online?” “No.” “Surely you read the Bible on Sunday morning. For sure on Easter morning.” “Not particularly.” “What’s wrong with you. I thought you were a priest.” “What does that have to do with my Sunday mornings?” “God, you’re infuriating!” “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be.” “You’re not much help. I’m more stuck now than I was before this conversation began.” “Okay, let’s start over. You’re frustrated because this year your Easter is going to be different.” “Yes. And we can’t have our normal big family gathering. Well, we’re not supposed to. But we are, kind of. Not everyone is going to show up. Truthfully, we told those who aren’t vaccinated that they shouldn’t come. Then we had a row because they told us they had decided not to ever get a vaccine. They told us we were being judgmental and overly cautious. It just turned into a mess. I just want everything to go back to normal! I don’t care anymore!” “I hear you. Change is always hard. The more significant the change, the more intense the loss, the deeper the grief.” “I don’t have any grief. No one in my family has died. Things will go back to normal!” “I might suggest that for more than a year, your experience of normalcy has been lost.” “I guess.” “And I might also suggest that there is a potential loss of what you want to be normal. Potential loss creates ambiguity: no one is sure what the future will look like. We have been confronted every day with ambiguous loss. The potential for grief appears to weigh heavier than the certainty of death.” “Don’t give me any of your academic bullshit.” “You are grieving the possibility that somethings will never return to normal.” “That’s not true.” “Everything can be true and false at the same time.” “That’s definitely not true.” “They’re two sides to every coin.” “We’re not talking about coins. We’re taking about My Easter!” “Okay. In the Easter story, what’s the opposite of death?” “Life.” “I might suggest that resurrection is the opposite of death. Death is a part of the life cycle. Life begins at birth and ends at death. So, the opposite of the life/death cycle is resurrection.” “Is this more of your theological rigmarole?” “No. It’s about your stuckness.” “I don’t get it.” “In order for someone to experience resurrection, or rebirth, they have to first die. In your case, in order for Easter to be Easter, the idea of Easter has to die in order to be reborn, resurrected. Your experience of Easter, your idea of normalcy, has to die. Once that idea has died, a new normal will be resurrected.” “I don’t want a new normal. Resurrection means Jesus came back to life. He returned to normal. There. That’s true. Your theory is false. And NOTHING can be TRUE and FALSE at the SAME TIME! You’re wrong! And I want MY EASTER BACK!” “Indeed, you do. I guess now’s not the time to suggest that the myth of Easter and the theory of evolution are different stories of the same archetypal narrative?” “You’re infuriating. It’s a wonder I keep talking to you. I gotta go. Oh yeah, can you pray for my brother. He may have cancer. You do still pray, don’t you?” “I’ll pray for your brother. And I’ll send you both some energy.” “Keep the energy to yourself. Can’t you simply say, yes?” “Yes.” “Thank you. Later.” “Bye.”
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