Bewildered

Yesterday I made a hurried trip to Costco for a few items that only make sense to purchase in bulk. I marched quickly past all the end cap displays designed to distract me. My eyes were gazing purposefully towards the horizon of fish and produce. And then I lost my footing… I saw rack upon rack of deep green leaves radiating from long stalks topped with blazing white Easter lilies. Right next to the charcoal and grills tempting us to imagine evenings warm enough to eat outside, a resurrection garden of Easter lilies was growing in Costco. I stopped. I couldn’t really breathe very well as the proximity of Holy Week felt completely bewildering. I just came for fish and some produce and children’s Claritin. I did not have resurrection reminder on my shopping list.

Of course, I have seen Easter on my paper calendar. I have noticed the ornamental pears and cherry trees exploding all over town in white and pink. I only registered the approaching season, ”Spring”. But the lifespan of potted blossoms and the efficient commerce of lilies made me realize how close Easter really is and how far away I am. I am nowhere near Jerusalem. I am bewildered.

In the 1600’s some wise and gentle soul first used the word ’wilder’ to describe becoming lost. If we can wander, then to wilder is the wilder cousin of a journey. Wilder takes us off road, across the barren places, through the dark forests, and into the wilderness that we don’t understand. I have been on a wilderness journey for some time now.

In the wilderness, I have learned to travel light. If I don’t let go of the heavy burdens, the journey will surely remove them from my possession. I have been emptying my pack of all the certainties, responsibilities, and expectations that used to define me. I have gotten so good at letting go of things, that sometimes I seem to grieve less and less what slips through my hand and hits the ground. It is just another fruit rotting on the forest floor. I am getting used to the smell of decomposition.

But the smell of lilies bewildered me. I smelled Easter and I smelled my own decay. This year, I will not prepare for Easter with a community of flower guild and passion lectors, acolytes and thurifers, polishing silver with faithful stewards of the sanctuary and dancing from purple to red to white. No stripping of the altar in the darkness before the long night watch. All the loss and the proximity of Easter reminded me right where I am, bewildered. It took my breath away.

As I drove home, I looked at the blossoms dancing on the trees and I got real about Holy Week. It is no longer a figment of my calendar. It is coming to crush me with grief and it is inviting me to wander my way towards the garden. April 17th is only one day for Easter, God has her own resurrection plans and she isn’t sharing them. I continue on this wilder path and it will likely take me many more weeks to be turned from corpse to cuerpo. I trust God to do the heavy lifting.