A little known holiday is celebrated in this region today.  This year marks 150 years since President Lincoln signed the Compensated Emancipation Act, which freed more than 3,000 slaves in the District of Columbia.  To celebrate, and to continue our roving tour of American history on the East Coast, we went to the Lincoln Cottage yesterday.

This is the house that President Lincoln used as his summer White House.   Located in NW DC, just some 3 miles from the White House, in 1862 it was a remote and wooded area that offered distance, coolness, and some respite for the president during the war years.  It was also the site of the Soldiers Home, and it remains a Soldiers Home to this day.

What was so inspiring about our visit was to be in the same rooms where Lincoln struggled with the complexities of the issues of freeing the slaves while at the same time trying to preserve the Union.  We sat in the very room where he thought, read, and wrote.  We walked the halls he walked.  The walls – the place, the space – remain a great testament to a great man, and his spirit can be felt there.

Our visit there reminded me again that nothing is easy.  Freedom always comes with a cost, a responsibility, a need for some action.  We should not hesitate to take a stand for freedom and equality for all people.  Nor should we hesitate from speaking out that the rights and freedoms this country is founded on are rights and freedoms for everyone – even those who may be very different from ourselves in their background, beliefs, or way of life.

Freedom to live the way we see fit and in the manner we choose is not just for a few.  President Lincoln taught us that.  May we honor Lincoln’s great legacy by being broad minded and tolerant enough to realize that everyone does not have to be like us or live life like us to enjoy the freedoms this country offers.

I noticed something absent along the landscape as I walked the city this morning.  Gone are all the bright and colorful banners and posters on every corner, near every church, inviting the general public to Easter services.  Easter has come and gone and so have the signs, banners and posters.  We can only assume those welcoming banners are packed neatly away in some dark closet until they will be displayed again next year before Easter.

But, Easter has not gone, it is not absent.  Easter is coming still.  And all of nature is a reminder that new life is still happening all around us, even though the calendar says that Easter has come and gone.  Easter is a process, a coming to birth, more powerful than the journey of Lent.  Yet often we forget that, and find ourselves content that Easter has arrived.

Today’s powerful message that Easter is still unfolding comes to me courtesy of the wind.  It has been blowing like crazy these past two days.  It’s sunny and spring-time warm, but the wind can be fierce.  I have to lean into it as I walk and try and not let the bits of dust and pollen get into my eyes.  My hair is blown and whipped in every direction and I have to hold tight to my shopping bag or it gets pulled out away from me.

Easter brings the promise of the Holy Spirit, and the Spirit came among the disciples as tongues of fire, yes, but also as a mighty wind.

So, let the wind blow.  Welcome it and feel the touch and caress of the Holy Spirit.  Let it completely mess up your hair and bring tears to your eyes.  Breathe it in deeply.  Draw strength from its power.  We are not finished yet.  The Holy Spirit is moving, bringing grace for every moment.

Dogs are great, don’t get me wrong.  But I’m beginning to wonder what a person in this town does without a dog.

Almost everyone out walking has at least one dog on a leash and many times two or three.  The dog walkers always stop and talk to each other, admiring each other’s dogs and sharing stories.  They congregate in the middle of the sidewalk which requires a person without a dog to leave the sidewalk in order to make their way around them.  Dogs accompany their owners into stores and attention to the dog is paramount – much more important than being aware of other humans who are shopping.

It is certain that a dog is “man’s best friend,” but I’m beginning to wonder if our love for dogs has begun to interfere with our love for each other.  Pets do love us with an unconditional and faithful love, there is no doubt.  But, lost in our love for our pets, have we forgotten how to love our fellow human beings with unconditional and faithful love?  It is a question I’ve been asking myself lately.  And it has caused me to make an effort to greet and speak to dog owners that I meet while walking.  Of course our conversation is about the dog – but, who knows, maybe some day one of us will make a comment about something else.  It’s worth a try for a moment of grace.

I love wisteria.  It’s so delicate and lacy, with cascading flowers that come in little clusters like grapes, not just one flower alone.  But the most intriguing thing to me about wisteria is the fact that it needs something else to lean on.  The plant itself is delicate and cannot provide its own support.  So, the wisteria needs a wall, a terrace, a roof line, or another tree to hold it up in order to display its beauty to the world.

I remember a tall and massive pine tree on the Seattle University campus that I used to pass when I was studying there.  Each spring that tall pine was covered with wisteria blossoms.  It was the most amazingly beautiful sight.  A pine tree that has no natural blossoms, and a wisteria that has no natural height.  But, the two – working together and combining their gifts – offered the world uncommon beauty!

It makes me think about how much we might be able to learn from such a natural occurrence.  No one of us has all things necessary for life.  We need each other to help flesh out our deficits and to accentuate each other’s beauty.  We really need each other to be whole.  Our society and our culture would like to have us think that we are capable and complete on our own – but we are not.

So, in our next interactions, let’s try and remember that we do, indeed, need each other.  Perhaps that will trigger a kinder word or a more compassionate attitude on our part.  Perhaps it will allow us to accept what someone else may be offering us.

And remember, bring your beauty if you want something to lean on.  Offer your strength and height if you want beauty.  Each will be graced by the other.

In just a few short days the landscape here has dramatically changed.  The brown and barren tree branches have come alive with full blooms and broad leaves in every shade of green imaginable.

Having lived in the Northwest for so long, I had forgotten how barren the landscape can become in winter.  Green is the perpetual color of the Northwest, and Seattle aptly nick named the “Emerald City,” but elsewhere, there is little color but brown and gray to see us through the winter months.

So, when creation comes alive again during the spring in this area and green fills the canvas, dotted by a host of colors – white, pink, yellow, purple, red – making lace-like patterns among the branches, I have a renewed appreciation for the glory of creation.  I’m reminded of the painting instructor my kids used to watch on PBS when they were little.  He painted “happy trees” with “happy blossoms” and “happy leaves” among “happy clouds.”  On a day like today there is no disputing it.  Creation itself is happy!  Life is graced.

Are we contributing anything to this happy scene?  With the new life of Easter budding within us, and creation itself coming alive, I think we must.

Alleluia! He is risen, just as he said.

The darkness slips away. The sun rises and the minutes pass as they do every other day.  Yet, unless we have spent our Lent preparing for this first day of days, it will be no different than any other day.

Have our eyes and hearts been opened?  Have we broken out of narrow and confining mind sets?  Have we reached out to others in uncommon love, kindness and forgiveness?

If we have — then we, too have died to old ways so as to rise to new life with Christ Jesus!  And, if we have risen, then through the power of the Holy Spirit, we can also see Him risen in every person we meet – indeed, in every living thing.

The stone has been rolled away.  Christ walks among us and within us!  May every moment be graced with Easter faith.  New life begins today.  Happy Easter.

So much of our lives seem to be taken up with waiting.  We wait for the light to turn; for the service to arrive; for the baby to come; for the day to be over.  We wait in grocery lines and at theaters; for phone calls and emails; for the seasons to change and for the project to be done.  We wait.

I can’t help but imagine what the disciples must have felt on this day following Jesus’ death.  They were waiting, but it’s unclear if they really knew what they were waiting for.  Jesus had promised them that he would rise again, but surely, they had no comprehension of the actual meaning of his words.  So, they waited.  In sadness and confusion – they waited.  In darkness and emptiness – they waited.  With faith and hope – they waited.

Thinking about this makes me realize that time spent waiting is graced time, not wasted time.  Not even the Son of God could be raised instantly.  There was a time of necessary waiting.  It’s the necessary part of the waiting that we often dismiss.  Nothing in life is instant.  There is a necessary gestation period for every living thing, a waiting, if you will, that must be part of the progression of life.

Can we begin to see our periods of waiting as graced moments where new life is growing within us rather than thinking they are wasted moments and lost to us forever because we have not received what we were waiting for right now?

This day is a lesson in waiting.  Waiting in love; waiting in faith; and waiting with hope against hope that new life truly does come from death.

“Where you there when they crucified my Lord?”  This is a popular spiritual tune that is often sung at services on this day.  While being a beautiful spiritual and a lovely springboard for reflective prayer, I have always disliked its use during the liturgy.

By asking if we were there when our Lord was crucified, it takes our attentions back to a time and a place where we can have no influence or impact.  The question revolves around us and our emotions during the event – asking us to reflect on what we are feeling, and yes, it does cause us to tremble.

But, perhaps the better question is “Where are we when our Lord is being crucified today?”  In our society today, and even within our Church, crucifixions are taking place . . . of gays and lesbians; of women and children; of the poor and homeless . . . and where are we?  Are we doing anything to help put a stop to the pain and the suffering?

It’s not an easy question to answer.  I am inspired by Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta who did so much to help alleviate some of the pain and suffering that she saw in the world.  It is said that she was inspired by two words Christ spoke and that she had them hanging on a plaque over her bed as a constant reminder to her.  “I thirst.”

With those two words in mind, Mother Teresa saw anyone with any thirst – be it physical, mental, or spiritual – as Jesus himself, and she spent her life reaching out and offering them some refreshment and relief.

As Jesus hangs on the cross in our day and our time, can we also offer some relief?  Any relief?

Were you there when they crucified my Lord?  No.  Are we here while they are still crucifying our Lord?  Let us look deep within ourselves for the grace to stand up and act to relieve some of the pain and abuse; suffering and oppression that are still crucifying people in our society, our church and our world today.  May our trembling move us to the grace of action.

Recently I read an article that quoted a line from a poem by Mary Karr. The line that struck me was “You are loved, someone said. Take that and eat it.”

How appropriate to reflect on that line for this Holy Thursday.  Jesus, in all his divinity, yet complete humanity, sat at table with his friends and essentially told them . . . told us . . . told the world . . .”You are loved.  Take that and eat it.”

And the way he showed his love on that particular evening was by kneeling down and washing his disciples’ feet.  You are loved.  And he taught us the way to love others is to do what he has done.  It seems so simple when we read the words, but how do we do what he did?  Not only must we bend down and wash another’s feet, we must also offer that love as nourishment for others, just as Jesus did.

The bread and wine changed into the Body and Blood of Christ at each eucharistic service means nothing if we are not also changed in the process.  “You are loved.  Take that and eat it.”  And, “become what you receive,” as St. Augustine said.

Because we are loved and we are shown how to love, we are given the nourishment to become a part of the Body of Christ in our day and our time.  “Take that and eat it.”

It is profound grace, but it comes with great responsibility.