An Easter Story for 2015

April 4, 2015

On that early morning, God thrust his heavenly hand into the inky skies, indigo wisps of dawn curling off the tips of his mighty fingers.  He did not stop until his palm had rested upon the cool edges of the earth's shadowy boulder.

A handful of disciples had gathered atop the lake's dam, their eyes drawn to the ruddy full moon sitting low in the southwest skies.  Slowly-silently--God rolled that boulder across the moon, infinitesimally erasing it from the skies.

And when the moon had become but a curved sliver of light in the horizon, God pushed once more, until the earth's boulder had snuffed all of its fire, leaving the disciples gasping in its absence.  By then, choirs of red-winged blackbirds and their sparrowed brethren had broken into song, unable to keep the story to themselves.

Against the whining backdrop of far-off sirens, the disciples stood up, brushing the gravel and grass from their stiff limbs, and wended their way back to their cars, the first pink promise of the sun drawing their attention now eastward.