Big-girl beds produce only a measurable decrease in naptimes. Jessica and I learned this the other Saturday when Ruth moved from her crib to her bed. Papa forgot the “Monster Book” and the stuffed Goofy, so a nap under such conditions is impossible. With Ruth’s revolutionary new freedom, she can just go get these things. I imagine her saying, “Oh, Papa, forgot my book? Don’t sweat it, just go get it.” However, once out of bed, there’s really no reason to go back, is there?

Meanwhile, Lynn arranged her drawing supplies on the kitchen table; Jessica retires for her nap, and I retreat downstairs for some writing time. As the rest of us settle for a couple hours of “quiet time”, a wail (that would make the best Banshee envious) echoes down the hall. So, I put down my tablet and venture upstairs. 

I ask Jessica what she needs, and she sends me back to the basement with the instructions to get to work. She says, “We can go outside, so I can work on the furniture project. If they invade your office, that’s on you.” [Warm days in March for playground visits are one benefit of living in the South.]

Back at my desk, I must get to work. I’ve got plenty of assignments to do, like this Easter Reflection. I need to tune in and complete this process. Plus, this thing is due, so let’s get started.

I begin my research phase for some interesting commentary in the nearly 2,000-year conversation of which I am a part.

Unfortunately, I find the Easter Controversy. Ever wonder about the ways the Church determines when Easter happens? Well, you can thank the Easter Controversy. This little bit of history stretches from the Apostles to the divisions of the calendar between solar in the Roman Empire and the lunar calculations of the Jewish calendar. The Council of Nicaea gets involved as does a Synod nearly 500 years later. 

[If for some reason, you would like to know more. Please, visit the Lutheran Encyclopedia for a short recap or the Catholic Encyclopedia for an extended version.]

Now, if I were you, the question on my mind would be: What could motivate such a time sucker? Well, Venerable Bede [link to info on Bede was involved in that Synod, and I’m a fan of his. Perhaps, I could have viewed his pastoral notes on Easter for more relevant stuff, but that didn’t happen.

Instead, somewhere in the middle of the 84-year cycle and Bede’s computus, I have the unmistakable awareness of a hand on my shoulder. Then, I get a new question: “Do you have any idea what you’ve just read?”

[I consider that answer too obvious to give. Of course, I don’t – there’s math in my theology debate.] That question does give me a chance for an exit from the current topic though. I push back from the desk and run a hand through what’s left of my hair, like a student from his studies during finals week. 

Having received no answer, I sense the statement: “That’s what I thought,” and it comes with a huffed sigh. 

[I can’t tell if that sigh is one like a teacher hoping for a student’s lesson, or maybe just a little disappointment at the length of time spent on all that. Though, let me confess: That interpretation of time lapsed might be more my own.] 

My Buddy, now, leans over my shoulder. There’s a pause as I try to emerge from my fog. Then, I hear, “The subjects that interest you lot never cease to astound.” 

 My mouth darts open, but – blessedly – my mind stops my mouth. [I recognize the bait there.] This is not the time to defend the meandering debates of ancient history. I say with the resignation of a child waiting on grandpa to make his point: “We often seem to get in our own way.” 

“Yes, y’all do,” begins the reply. “There’s a masterclass on that by this guy named Peter in a book that I read one time. 

“Anyway, I hear the children outside. Why are you not there?” 

I cannot stop my reflexive point toward the computer screen. I say, “I was trying to get some writing done.” 

My Buddy laughs like Dickens’ Ghost of Christmas Future. [Seriously, I was nervous some books might rattle off the shelves.] “Congratulations, you’re 0 for 2.” 

My lips roll together as I slowly blink between forced breaths. My distinct impression is of being poked for the sake of it.

Thankfully, any response from me is cut off by: “Well, I’d see if I could go for a third, but then you’d probably miss the point.” 

I scratch the top of my head while breathing – slowly. [My Buddy’s right: There’s about not to be any points because I’m about done. But hey – I’m not worried about the Easter Controversy anymore.] 

[Also, I’m ready to pounce on whatever this point is, so all this did get me paying attention. In fact, my Buddy guided me pretty specifically to where I could, at least, hear.]

“Now, let’s be a little generous and grant to those in the Easter Controversy that they are well intentioned,” my Friend begins. “Easter is the most important feast, so they wanted to make sure that they got it ‘right’.”

I say, “Sure, in light of St. Paul’s exposition in 1 Corinthians 15, I can’t debate the importance of the Feast of the Resurrection. Plus, I pray that I would grant good intentions to the Church Fathers in the Easter Controversy. May I not have read all that if I believed otherwise. Yet, I can’t shake the awareness of their loss of focus on this topic as much as I was lost reading it.” [Looks like I took the bait this time.]

“I’m glad you brought up St. Paul,” says my Buddy. “That’s a great argument for the Resurrection, and he even brings up the mystery of it, which is nice. Still, there’s the possibility of some connection between the opening and closing of that chapter that might be a little vague. What was the name given to Me by the prophet before My birth?”

[What’s with this question? Or is this merely to see if I’m still paying attention? ] I answer, “Emmanuel – I think.”

“Yeah, that’s right.” [Sure, as if my Buddy forgot that.] “So, I can’t be with you if I am dead. St. Paul mentions My grace as the source of his journey, and then he gets very focused on the future of the Resurrection of the Body, so another connection could be made: My Resurrection is one more confirmation that I am with you.” 

[Well, this might have been as laborious as the earlier readings, but I think I’m finally getting it.] “So, what You’re saying is: Your Resurrection demonstrates in a completed way that You go with me on my journey?”

“Certainly, the work of My being with you is done, yet there is one more moment of proof, right?”

“Gotcha – yeah, there is one more showing to go. Is there something else?” I reread 1 Corinthians 15 and say, “Ah, I may have it. If St. Paul confesses that the Resurrection enables his reception of Your grace, he went with You, because You are with him.” [For the first round of “going with God, because God,” check out my Christmas reflection – here.]

“Now, you’ve got it. St. Paul admits the impossibility of his journey without Me, and that’s because of the Resurrection.”

My mind turns inward, looking at the pieces of this conversation, so a silence embraces the moment. [My initial response: the entire opening of my Lenten Reflection might be inaccurate. According to this intimate, unique conversation, prayer and reflection happen on God’s time – if my Lord can get me to pay attention.]

My Buddy ends the silence: “By the way, sounds like your oldest daughter has learned a new trick on the trampoline. You better go see what that’s about.”

“I guess I’ll go do that. Thanks for the visit; we’ll have to do it again.”

“Oh, I suspect we will. Now, go play.”