Daffodils and Dead Jesus

Daffodils and Dead Jesus

I’m ready for spring. So ready that Denise and I took a few days off in the middle of a work trip and went to Florida. Mickey needed a visit. We needed some sunshine. I think I am solar powered.

Ice damming (a real thing, not a curse) did a number on our roof this winter. We lost a ceiling, three walls, and half of the wood floor in our master bedroom. Our home insurance company still hasn’t gotten here to survey the damage and write a check. Florida was good medicine.

When we got home, the daffodils were up, the ice was gone, and the grass was looking a little green. Spring always seems to arrive when we’ve had it with the cold stuff.

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First Day of Spring

First Day of Spring

Our tradition is that I get Denise flowers on the first day of spring. Now that we have two furry creatures in our home who love to eat flowers and knock over glass vases, the tradition has warped into plant-able yard flowers, usually daffodils. We have a growing spread of them in our flower beds.

Which begs the theological question, is Easter like spring? It certainly shows up on the calendar that way.

Spring arrives and Easter is not far behind. I’ve heard adults explain the Easter resurrection of Jesus like spring flowers: what was brown and dead springs back to life again every year.

Well, yes—but no.

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