Easter-ish

This is from the view of the fictitious Rachel, Mary's best friend from childhood.

I had purposely stayed at the back of the crowd in order to avoid seeing Jesus. Watching them lay him there on the wood, seeing them drive the stakes into his hands—the hands I had seen and touched and held before—it would be too difficult.

            Mary’s lot was far worse, however, and she had surely kept as close to him as she could.

            I stared at the ground as I pressed through the alleyways, pardoning myself past the people milling about in the morning air. They didn’t realize that their Lord was dying right now, just outside the city. My swallows came more frequently as I tried to keep the sobs from spilling out of my chest.

            One broke free when I came to a crossroads. The dirt before me still bore an inch-deep scar all along the path through the alley and around the corner. His cross.

            I crouched to the ground and held my face in my hands. The people stepped on the fringes of my dress, stepped right on the cross-made furrow with their filthy sandaled feet. My Lord, I cried within my heart. My Lord, my God.

Spring-ish

In between the BIG good ishes (going to the temple, turning in an outline, registering for fall classes, watching the General Women's Broadcast) there is one itty bitty good ish that is yet impossible to ignore.

We call it

THE WEATHER.

Coming from a land that has little in the way of weather (*cough cough* Mesa, Arizona), it is so much more pleasing to come to March and April being in Utah. Even after an exceedingly mild winter, you can feel and see every change that marks the coming of spring.

The ducks waddle in pairs and nestle in the shadows in the grass. The popcorn trees exploded--overnight, apparently--with tiny round white petal-kernels that pepper the sidewalk and rain down whenever the wind blows. The breeze still has the slightest bite to it, urging you to stay in the sun's sight whenever possible. Green grass. Blue skies. Walks are perfect, as are short sleeves.

I call it

beautiful.

The loveliness thereof makes us think of the tie between spring and the Resurrection of Jesus Christ. And is it any wonder? With so much life bursting forth from the ground, the sky, the water, how could we not remember the One who created this beauty as a symbol of His own life and renewal?