Resurrection becomes reminder of selfless love

By Dr. Heather Bozant Witcher
Young Adults

This Easter weekend we learn of our faith’s immense capacity for restoration and resurrection. We hear of the value of faith – of a devoted trust in the resurrection of life after death, of the promise of heavenly reunion with God.

I’ve heard the sermons and the Bible passages my entire life. To be fair, very frequently, I was half-listening. The downside of Easter, for me, has always been the onset of pollen. The blankets of yellow covering everything in sight. So, medically, I’ve always been at half-attention.

This year, though, by the grace of God, my allergies have been lessened – for now. And as I’ve participated in the events leading up to Easter, I’ve begun thinking a bit differently about resurrection and restoration.

The Easter promise – Jesus’  dying and rising – offers a restoration of humanity, reconciled to the love of God. Romans reminds us of the power of this restoration and is often included at the Easter Vigil: “We were indeed buried with him through baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might live in newness of life” (Romans 6: 3-11).

This past week, as I was reflecting on the power of restoration and reconciliation to love, I found myself being tugged by my children. As a mom to three children under 5, my attention is often divided, particularly when we’re about to embark on an epic toddler showdown.

We escaped to the cry room to avoid disturbing the peace of those around us. These are the moments that are most trying. The attempts at calm, at fostering kindness, reminding of sharing and giving. All to be ignored by a child’s very strong will, before the boundary crashes down, resulting in anger, sadness or frustration.

We’ve all been there.

As I wrangled, for the umpteenth time, to extricate a toy that had been stolen and remind one of my children of listening to the other when he says, “No, I’m still playing with that,” my patience was low and frustration was mounting. As parents, we’ve all known these limits – the need to step back, to pause before reacting. But, let’s be honest, there are moments of sheer exhaustion and anger erupts.

That was when I heard the Easter message differently. My son has a “Repair Bear” that has an affirmation about coming back together to repair after moments of anger. “Let’s find a way to come back together, to reconnect and be stronger than ever.” After I regained calm, I recalled those lines and looked over at my children.

The resurrection became a reminder of selfless love and sacrifice. It’s a reminder that we can always repair and reconnect; that we can always reconcile and be reconciled by love. And is it a coincidence that the biggest reconciliation in history comes after darkness? As I look to both the dormancy and loss of both the natural world (the spring bulbs buried in the earth before blooming) and our religious narrative (Jesus’s burial for three days), I’m reminded of our own need for dormancy– for pause, for reflection, for solitude – to truly become the best versions of ourselves as parents.

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