THE BIRTH OF HOPE

 

 

Out of all my childhood memories, I cherish the ones of Easter the most. I was born and raised in Croatia. I was 13 when my family immigrated to Australia. What remains etched in my heart the most about the home of my birth is the land and its’ nature….every wheatfield I ran through, every tree I climbed, every patch of grass with blooming spring flowers……it is all so firmly locked in my memory.  

When I read the Bible, I know what harvests are and what seasonal festivals are and what shepherds are. And I understand many spiritual truths that were taught by the Saviour using the metaphors that related to agrarian way of life. I know it because I grew up with it.

Easter was a magical time in my youth. It was a time when the snow left and spring came. A time when baby chicks were born and violets emerged from the earth to herald a renewal of life. A time when my mother made me and my sisters new dresses to wear to Church Sunday morning with our Easter baskets laden with food for the priest to bless.

I cannot remember it ever raining on Easter Sunday. The sun shone always, like it wanted to remind us that it was a day of re-birth. It was a time when nature allowed me to see God’s glory.

 Easter Sundays for me overshadowed Good Friday and Christ’s death. As important as that was, Easter Sunday was what I remembered the most because the happiness and knowledge of Christ’s resurrection whispered in spring air.

Now that I am an adult and understand the hope of resurrection for myself, my heart is full of gratitude and hope for eternal life that was born at Calvary. I know that He lives and has overcome the sting of death for my sake. His suffering to make that possible is something I can never repay but the power He gained to exalt me on high is something I will be grateful for forever.

When You rose from Your grave

With healing in Your wings,

Did I live on in Your heart

As you ascended to Your throne

To seal my destiny?

Did You carry us all in Your bosom

With the crucible of the cross

Forever etched in Your memory?

 

Your gift, the beauty of this earth,

That we might always feel You near;

With every movement of the trees

And the rustle of its leaves,

I hear You whisper:

“I am here”

- CATHRYNE ALLEN 

(Art: Blossoms of Life by Greg Collins)