This year, I am wearing shades of blue because they are beautiful, and sometimes you need to wear beautiful colors so that every time you look down you are lifted up. I have no idea if this is an appropriate seasonal color liturgically. It's probably not secularly, either, because I am not wearing spring-y pastel blues, weak and watered down. I am wearing dark, rich jewel tones: peacock, teal, turquoise.
I am celebrating Easter by going to church on Saturday at a place that is not my local church. It is more than half an hour away, and the drive was crowded, the roads oddly packed. The day started out wet and sloppy, but by now it is bright with sun and 10 degrees warmer than the professional weather guessers predicted. Water from the thaw runs in the gutters, pools around the grates, rages onto convergence points, carries away trash and newly uncovered flower clusters hidden for this day when I am celebrating resurrection and new life.
One year, I wrote a poem about Saturday and how wretched the day before Easter must have seemed to all of the people who loved Jesus. Today, I doubt I could be in that same somber, sober place. There is too much light and warmth and the stink of new life everywhere.
Tomorrow, the weather guessers tell us, it will be cold and miserable and dark and snowy. This sanctuary will still be bright with all of its windows, and early service attendees will be blinded if there is sun. I hope there is sun because I think we all need a good spring blinding to remind us it's not all winter.