A reflection by Danny Nelson Schweers for March 24, 2024.
For the first time in days, I experienced a moment of joy this morning looking east at the new day dawning.
For days, I have been sick with a bad cold, or the flu, or some other head/chest grunge. I sleep. I watch TV. I read books. Everything else is on hold. If I am writing this, it is because I woke up and felt momentarily joyous looking east at the new day dawning. It is spring! For a moment, I felt healthy and whole.
That is a good way to start this reflection. I wonder, how it will end?
No, I do not know where I am going with this reflection. That’s normal. I often start writing by talking about something I am sure of, a thought I feel good about, or an image. Starting there, I continue to search until I find an ending or it finds me, something good waiting to be found. I wonder, what it will be?
My start here is joy, a new day, a new dawn, healthy and whole again — these are the words of Easter, of Jesus risen from the grave, the stone rolled away, His disciples inspired by the Holy Spirit to testify freely in public, their joy manifest. This reflection could be about resurrection, perhaps its promise.
Looking east as the new day dawned, the sky was full of clouds. What made me think the clouds would clear? Instead of clearing, they just as easily could have condensed into a solid mass of rain. In fact, the sun did come out. It shone in a bright blue sky.
Of course, that clearing, that sunshine, could only be temporary. Night will come. So will rain. Snow. Wind and winter. Good health may return, but even it can only be temporary before once again some bug, injury, or malady challenges all optimism and hope. Death is certain. But so is resurrection!
Hope need not be dependent on the weather or our health.
We need not be the playthings of fortune and chance. I think of Saint Paul, telling us to give thanks in all circumstances. Look at Psalm 22. It begins, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” but consistently declares God’s righteousness. I would be that steadfast in spite of my troubles and fears.
Just now, at the end of the day, having written the above, the end of this essay arrives. I just heard about the death of a friend’s 68-year-old mother. Her heart gave out. But, I learned, a touching moment had followed. Soon after the death, the friend’s daughter found her grandmother’s cell phone. “Mommy,” the seven-year-old said, “I want to send Grandma a text in heaven.” That is the faith I want.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Danny chairs SsAM’s Communication Committee. He is an active photographer and writer. Click here to visit his website and make a comment.
See all of Danny’s reflections on this website.
