On Easter

Resurrection means more to me now by far than it ever did before.

Last Easter, I was barely through my first trimester of pregnancy. We were several weeks away from finding out that we were expecting a baby boy with a very broken heart. And if you're here, you know what has happened since then: how he fought hard for his life after he was born, how everything went horribly wrong, and how we held him in our arms when he died.

Being confirmed, Easter Vigil 2010

It was believing in the resurrection that made it possible to let him go.

As I returned home from the Easter Vigil service last night, I was thinking about the experience of that service and all that has happened since the last Easter Vigil when I was received into the fullness of the Church. Through the first three Old Testament readings and their subsequent psalms, the church is in darkness save for the Paschal candle. Before the reading to the epistle of Romans, the lights are turned on and the Gloria is sung for the first time since before the beginning of Lent. Christ has come, he has been raised -- we were once in darkness, and then comes a great light, and it illuminates everything.

It's such an incredibly joyous moment in the liturgy. Joy bubbled up in my heart, and it felt as though I might have been floating inches off the ground. He is risen.

And not only is He risen, but His resurrection is a preview of what waits for us.

We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we shall be changed.

1 Corinthians 15:51-52 

As I go back to those final moments with Ewan in that hospital room, I remember that it was just James and Ewan and I. Just like He asked Mary and Martha before He raised their brother Lazarus, I sensed Christ asking me the most important, soul-deep question: "I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live ... Do you believe this?"

I trembled, I held my breath, and I said yes.

That's the special meaning Easter holds for me this year: Christ's victory over death means that ultimately death won't have the victory over us either. His resurrection is a preview of ours. His resurrection, I remembered last night, is a preview of Ewan's. Christ will raise him with a perfect body.

You know what that means? Happy Easter!

Changes, and a thought or two on the body

Not long ago, I spent some time sharing with you many of the challenges we have been facing. Some of these challenges arose prior to Ewan's conception and birth, and some of them have popped up as new challenges in the weeks and months since that time. I'm here to share that there's some positive change in that regard.

There has been a burst of light.

James got a job.

Wait a minute, let me rephrase that:

JAMES GOT A JOB!!

This is something we have been waiting for and praying for in the nearly two years since we got married. It is a challenging economic environment for just about anyone, but the task of finding work seemed especially challenging in our area of the country. No matter how many times he applied, no matter what types of jobs, and no matter who we had networked with in our search for employment opportunities, nothing ever worked out. Not even an interview.

So how did this come about?

You will perhaps remember that James and I spent some time in Nashville and in Florida prior to my return to work in early February. When we went on that trip, we wanted to remain open to the possibility that there may be opportunities for us in the places we were visiting. While in Florida, an opportunity came up in discussion with the friends with whom we were staying.

Long story short: that's the opportunity we are pursuing. We are moving to Florida.

It's all happening quickly, but there are a few things I can tell you. The current plan is that James will start his training in about two weeks on Monday, 4/25. He's driving from Seattle to Florida (a little over 3,000 miles), which means he will have to leave by this weekend. I'm going to stay behind in the Seattle area for a few months to tie up loose ends with getting moved out of our apartment and so I can keep working to ensure that we both have health insurance coverage until his kicks in at 90 days. I'll be staying with a friend of mine for a couple of months after our lease is up at the end of May until we are ready for me to make the move as well. It will be challenging to be apart for that long, but I'm confident that with everything we have dealt with in the past two years, that we can make it through this three month (or so) period.

This is what 3,069 miles looks like

People have asked me before and I was asked again recently if it will be difficult to leave Ewan behind. As a Catholic, I believe the body is important. It is not just a shell. When God made the body, he said it was good. Christ gave the body further dignity through his incarnation, his taking on of human flesh. I believe that one day at the resurrection, our expired bodies will be raised again and brought to perfection and newness of life. That being said, Ewan's body will be staying put in Seattle. For as long as he was here with us, Seattle was his home. He is buried in a good  Catholic cemetery where we can trust his remains will be treated with compassion and dignity. We are confident that this is the best possible place for him to be, and for him to remain.

And without wanting to be overly sentimental, he is always with us. When I'm at the cemetery standing near that tiny plot of earth that covers his body, I know that it's him down there. I am well aware that the little body that was safe inside mine -- kicking and squirming and rolling and pushing way too hard to the right -- is down there. That matters to me. But I don't need to be in a cemetery or near his body to feel close to him. His body is there, but it is no longer animated. He's alive in heaven, and I have it on good authority that he's been busy. That's a part of him I can be near to and have access to no matter where in the world I am.

I realize that other families who have experienced similar losses have chosen to handle this issue differently, and this choice was made out of love for their children. I hope it makes sense that the choice we make to allow his buried body remain where it currently rests is also made out of love. It may be a long way off, but we will see him in the flesh again one day. And I also know that the part of him that still lives and intercedes on the behalf of others will be with us no matter how far we drive.

He is with us, even in our fresh start.