Words from The Crone

The way we communicate these days was brought in focus for me as I traveled from Delaware to Florida and back the past two weeks. Of course my laptop was Velcro-ed (is that a word?) to my lap and I was never far from an electric outlet. When visiting friends, after the initial “Hello’s” and “How are you’s,” was the “Do you have wireless in the house?” Many, but not all, of us are becoming slaves to our electronic communication tools and I love mine! Being connected to a whole host of others brings the world up close and personal for me.

But when there was no connectivity for my laptop it got me thinking about those days when they didn’t even have pony express, Either you sent someone somewhere with a message (written or memorized) or you went yourself. I imagine the decision making process was slowed down quite a bit. It was a very small world indeed. While rail and mail sped things up considerably it still took about a month for the entire nation to find out that Lincoln had been assassinated.

With the invention of the telephone and telegraph the speed of communication was considered an awesome thing. Imagine, you could actually speak to your cousin in New York while you were sipping Pina Colada’s in Palm Springs, California! What next?

The internet of course! I recall being absolutely astounded that I could type in a few words on my computer, enter a weird @ something address and send the written word to Moscow in a nanosecond! Sure I could pick up the phone and call, but hey, this email stuff is speed of light transportation of the written word all around the world. And, if you’ve scanned in your signature you can even sign a document and return it in a matter of seconds! Now that is awesome, truly awesome. We get used to that kind of convenience and rightly so, for we are in an electronic age and to not embrace it is akin to still using an outhouse rather than the inside toilet.

Being used to my speed of light electronic communication I found myself rather annoyed when I had to open the internet and type in my www.something address to read my favorite blog. Slowed things down considerably. But, lo and behold (that’s an archaic expression meaning “Guess what?”) I found out that I could sign up to receive the blog via email! No more multiple steps to find the blog. Nor did I have to check every day to see if she had written something new because if she did it just came into my email in-box and I opened it and enjoyed. I know about RSS feed, and that works too, but the email is just so much more convenient for me.

So, if you are like me and want to receive this blog by email, just select the “email subscription” link in the upper right corner and sign up or sign on! I’d love to have you. I still wonder what may be next on the commmunication horizon, but for me right now this is all good stuff and good enough!

We are in the process of looking for a new home. Actually, I guess you would call it a new “house” because it won’t be a “home” until we make it so. Our reason is the future need for a first floor owner’s bedroom. They used to call it a master bedroom, but we all know that is no longer politically correct. What future means to us is that our legs are deciding to go north while our brain is deciding to go south. Or something like that.

The house we are considering is a single family house in a large development on a half-acre of land, hopefully overlooking a pond. I somehow need to look at moving water to soothe my soul. This seems like a lot to undertake as we are approaching senility, but hey, no one ever accused us of being sane. Besides, R has promised me that he won’t buy a mowing tractor or a tractor lawn mower, but will hire someone to manage that part of our life. I’ll believe it when I see it.

At any rate, after looking at all the pro’s and con’s of this house we are doing it anyway and I guess hoping that God will somehow provide for all of our deficiencies whether that be financial, spiritually, or physically and we will live happily ever after in our new house-to-become-a-home. I guess you might say that we are either eternal optimists or nuts.

But then, something happened to me yesterday that made me wonder if we shouldn’t be looking for a different kind of home. We have those portable phones that are not attached to the wall. So very handy for walking around the house talking and not being jerked back at the end of a six or ten foot tether. I was talking DD #1 on that very phone and she said she had tried to call me not 15 minutes earlier on that same phone. Funny, I said, we were sitting right here having breakfast and the phone didn’t ring. A sane enough conversation.

But then I looked at the cradle that usually housed my portable phone and it wasn’t there. So, I told my daughter that I couldn’t find my phone and, as we were chatting, I began to wander around the bedroom and the loft to see where I had last put it down. My DD #2 (who was downstairs and overheard me) told me to call it and see where it rang. I finally gave up looking and finished my conversation with DD #1.

As I hung up it was then that I realized I couldn’t find my portable phone because I was talking on it and it was plastered to my right ear! And, it was then that I began to wonder if maybe we should be looking at a nursing home rather than the house we were contemplating. Naw, not yet. It was only a momentary lapse. Right? Right!

There is something very magical about early morning. The silence is only broken by a few birds chirping away at each other, probably mama saying to papa, “So, where are the bugs for the babes?” The air is thick with dew and when the day is a bit cool the ground fog swirls at ones feet and it feels like Narnia. As the sun rises the awe in my heart rises and I put myself at the tomb and sense that Mary Magdalene is there with me. Perhaps even Martha and her sister Mary came too and, who knows maybe even Jesus’ mother, Mary, is at my right elbow. All of us peering in at an empty tomb.

Our hearts fill with fear, heart stopping, real fear. The body is gone. Someone must have stolen the body of our dear, sweet Jesus. Wasn’t it enough that he was crucified and killed in the most vicious manner, stripped of even his clothing. Stark naked hanging there, suffering, like some common criminal. Now they have stolen his body. We can’t even dress and anoint him for a proper burial. We cry an ocean of tears. Even the morning beauty cannot calm the fear and dread we have in our hearts.

And then, the bountiful, magical, joy of Easter morning. Jesus is with us, full of glory, and smiling that strong, broad grin of his. Our own faces spread into laughter as the tears turn into happiness. He isn’t gone! He lives. We rush to give him our hugs and kisses. “Don’t touch me,” he says. We draw back. He smiles wider.

“I have not reached my full glory,” he says. “But, see, I live.” “I now live in another realm where my father, my God, lives.” “Do not mourn for me, rejoice that you also will someday join me in this place of spiritual bliss.” We stare in awe, trying to grasp what is happening. Longing to understand. Wondering if it is all true, or just a dream. Are we mad? Is this real?

Our beloved Jesus tells us to go and tell the others, our brothers and sisters off in the city mourning the loss of our rabbi and teacher. We rush off, full of the good news. Good news that even to this day, we spread to all who will listen and all who will believe. Easter morning – rise up, rejoice, and be filled with joy and happiness and hope! Happy Easter we say, happy indeed!