Suddenly, the lawns have shown a remarkable transformation. The old dry, brittle, brown stuff is lush and green. I remarked to Fred what a difference a few inches of rain make in Kansas; it’s like a resurrection! The lilacs are out. The redbud trees are coming alive. Grass is growing again.
The sun, cool weather and green lawn make me want to buy about 50 plastic colored eggs and scatter them everywhere. After all, it’s spring, and it’s Easter!
Growing up in the northern United States, I remember those emotions and smells of Easter time. April is always a fickle month in the north. One never knew when the snow banks would melt away for good. Weary of the snow, the salted, icy roads, and the dreary days, we would look longingly at our summer clothes, knowing that just maybe we could wear some of those lighter, brighter colors soon. Never would we store our sweaters since the summers in the north need a wrap in the evenings.
Although Easter was a spring date on the calendar, we could never count on wearing our new Easter dresses, or lightweight coats to church on Easter morning. We always hoped we could. After all, it was spring, and all things were becoming new again!
We shunned “Old Man Winter.”
The white shoes stepped out of the closet, and summer colors began to be introduced into the mix of winter slacks and jackets. Still, big icy chunks of snow were visible here and there, melting slowly, and leaving puddles and mud everywhere.
The over boots sat in a corner of the garage, even though they were more necessary now than ever. The lighter coats exchanged places with the heavy parkas.
Yet, spring was here, and our being yearned for the new start. The smell in the air changed. The expectancy of budded trees, flowers, grass, and dry roads couldn’t be dispelled. Spring was almost here!
Anticipation of a change, a fresh start, and life out of the death of winter charged us.
That’s the truth of Easter.
Nature continually affirms the reality of the Easter message. The death of winter. The faithful emergence of spring. The new buds on the trees. The bulbs in the ground sending up tulips. The empty eggs on the lawn.
All of these.
Jesus Christ chose to die a horrific, sacrificial death, bearing the separating sin of mankind, and suffering the scourge and stripping that the whip inflicted on His body. Then he bled. And he hung. Death.
Hopelessness.
But, after three days in the tomb, the stone rolled away and He did what he said He would do. When the heavy stone rolled away, He walked away from the empty tomb. Then he spoke and ate with His disciples before He resurrected to the Father.
The resurrection. A historical fact.
Hope.
No one could stop Him. Legions couldn’t stop Him. Roman soldiers couldn’t hold Him there in the tomb. The Pharisees couldn’t make up big enough lies to hide this truth.
Death had no hold because of Him. And now death has no hold.
How wonderful spring is.
How wonderful Easter is.
How faithful nature is to turn the death of winter to the life of spring.
And how faithful God is to have done the same. For us.
Happy Easter!

Judy Tabler is a guest columnist for the Great Bend Tribune and her views don’t necessarily reflect those of the paper. She can be reached at bluegrasses@gmail.com.