In the shadow of our apartment building with a cold northeast wind blowing it felt like Winter but as I looked left the sun was shining on the fresh green of the willow tree wafting in front of me and I knew that it was Spring. Our short daily walks were usually around the small streets of our hometown but sometimes for a change  we would walk around parking lots once full but  now completely empty giving a surreal feeling even if the sun was shining. The days leading up to Easter 2020 felt a little like we were in a never ending Winter with all that was going on with the pandemic gripping the world. When Good Friday came all was quiet as we continued to stay indoors but this was to be good. Something made me turn and look at the clock in the kitchen – it was 12 noon – for the next three hours I watched and waited. Not literally but while continuing my daily tasks I was mindful of what this day meant. It reminded me not only of the cross and promise that it brought to us but of all the suffering in the world. Why would we call this day Good – I then thought of a sermon that I had heard by Anthony Campalo – It’s Friday but Sunday is Coming. We have to look beyond the dark of Good Friday and see the promises we have been given. Noah spent forty days and nights on the ark and Jesus spent forty days in the wilderness tempted by the devil, the same length of time as the church’s season of Lent. But what you may not realize is the word for forty days in Italian is quaranta giorni  from which we get the word quarantine. As I write this (April 25th, 2020) my husband Ron and I have been in our home for 40 days – a long time

I got up early on Easter Sunday, put on make up dressed for Easter. We can still celebrate and COVID-19 was not going to stop me. As we ate our Hot Cross buns for breakfast we switched on the television before our virtual church service and Cardinal Dolan was preaching to an empty St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York city. His sermon was about emptiness and not about fullness and hope and life but as he said, you have to have an empty tomb to take you from the despair of Good Friday to the Hope and Joy of Easter. The Jewish people came through the empty dessert where they had to rely on God. He reflected on empty seats, empty shops, empty Easter table where before we celebrated. He reminded us that when we change our oil we have to empty the old to put in the new. Listening to him speaking made me think of what I may empty and get rid of in my life that is really quite meaningless and fill it once more with all things that matter most.

We spent some time walking around Natick and the sun shone. The trees and flowers were in full bloom seeming to proclaim an awakening from the darkness of Winter and the Hope that Easter brings. The messages in the windows of thanks and goodness filled me with a sense of well being even at this time.

When we returned home I set the table for Easter with glasses of sparkling wine and some flowers – even if they were artificial. It was hard not to be together and hear the laughter of our grandchildren but I reflected on our many Easters together. I then thought of where we are in this pandemic. This virus has made it as if this is our Good Friday but Sunday is coming enabling us in the emptiness to draw closer to God and to one another.