Sunday, maybe more than ever before, I feel the need to celebrate the resurrection. A pastor I know recently said, “Though it may not always feel like it, the promises of Easter are as true today as any other day.” I needed to hear that, I need to repeat that, I need to tell that to everyone I know. Like you all, I will be celebrating Easter in a new way this year. My family attended the sunrise service at my home church every year since my baptism at that 6am service in 1992. Even as a 27 year old, I slept in my childhood bedroom so my mom could wake me up at 5:00am with the soft words “Bekah, wake up, Christ is risen.” This is the first year in my life I won’t be starting Easter off that way. (I asked my mom if she’d call me at 5:00am this year- no dice). I’ve been grieving this change, along with all the others of this season, a lot lately. There are no two ways about it, this is a sad/confusing/time-warp/scary/messy/blessed/scary-again time for our local and global communities. However, the more and more I sit with it, the more I feel OK. Because Christ’s resurrection is not dependent on a sunrise service, a nap, a ham dinner, and another nap. Those traditions are important and sacred, but the Easter promises are already true, and they will always be true. So this year, I will celebrate differently and it will be good, and I will continue to grieve, and both of those realities can and will be true at the same time. Whatever comes this Sunday, the tomb is already empty, and it is good. As Martin Luther said, “our Lord has written the promise of the resurrection, not in books alone, but in every leaf in springtime.” I’ll be soaking up that promise as much as I can during this very peculiar springtime.