Monday, Day Two: Light
Monday, Day Two: Light
We are rarely completely without light unless we choose to be. Even on a cloudy, new-moon night, a small remnant of starlight shines through the thick covering. Or perhaps we live in a place where streetlights never go off—even with the curtain drawn, an eerie, electric-yellow light glows, reminding us that even in the privacy of our own homes, our shadows are still visible. People who are sight impaired may not see light, but they can certainly feel it—sunlight on their faces, the well-worn paths in their own homes, the well-known streets of their neighborhoods.
Let there be light, one version of the creation story begins, and there was. Creation always begins with light. The baby entering the world encounters light through her closed eyelids, even before she can see. The man awaking from a difficult surgery notices light as he wakes, even before he begins to feel the sensations in his body, the numbness and the growing pain. In the Catholic Christian tradition, the creation story is the first story read during the Easter liturgy, after the light has been passed from candle to candle. After each section of the story, the congregation sings, “And God saw that it was good.”
In the Greek Orthodox tradition, the light of Christ comes out of the darkened tomb of the altar to the people gathered. That small flame becomes a giant glow as it is passed from one to another and the Easter Hymn, Christos Anesti, is sung over and over, joyfully. Christ is risen from the dead, by death trampling death, and unto those in the tombs, bestowing life.
We see because we are drawn to light, or because we create it. As the egg cracks, as the darkness comes to light, we begin to see ourselves as we really are. Exhausted, sad, regretful. Overly ambitious, to the point of forgetting to pay attention to the events and people who should slow us down. Too caught up in our thoughts or worries to be able to be present with those we love. Too angry, impatient, easily frustrated. Holding onto our own sins or those committed against us, still, after so many years.
We sit with that clarity, not trying to change it just yet. We don’t beat ourselves up, even though our instinct is to frantically list the ways we hope to become better people, to make an action plan, to get to work on it.
First, we simply breathe in all that is wrong. We breathe out our desire for healing. We become light.
Making a donation to Petalouda House:
We would appreciate a donation to Petlaouda House if you are reading along with these Easter reflections. But, we want to make this clear up front: your donation is not yet tax deductable. We are not sure yet whether our project will become a non-profit or continue to be a labor of love as it is now. We have ongoing needs--basic needs like clothing, food, work uniforms, lessons, etc. for those who live or will live with us--but we also have some larger goals. Our next goal is to make improvements to the property that will ensure that the foundation is sound (this will involve hauling a lot of dirt this summer!). Also, we hope to make one of our entrances disability accessible. The much more long-term goal is to finish an apartment over the garage so we can provide housing for a family or transitional and more independent housing to adults who live or will live with us. Finally, we currently only have one very old working vehicle. We will need a second, newer vehicle soon.
You can make a donation by sending a check made out to Argie Manolis or Tara Gromatka to 411 E. 4th St., Morris, MN 56267, with Petalouda House in the memo line, or transferring money via PayPal to argiemanolis@gmail.com.
Christ is Risen! Happy Easter!
We are rarely completely without light unless we choose to be. Even on a cloudy, new-moon night, a small remnant of starlight shines through the thick covering. Or perhaps we live in a place where streetlights never go off—even with the curtain drawn, an eerie, electric-yellow light glows, reminding us that even in the privacy of our own homes, our shadows are still visible. People who are sight impaired may not see light, but they can certainly feel it—sunlight on their faces, the well-worn paths in their own homes, the well-known streets of their neighborhoods.
Let there be light, one version of the creation story begins, and there was. Creation always begins with light. The baby entering the world encounters light through her closed eyelids, even before she can see. The man awaking from a difficult surgery notices light as he wakes, even before he begins to feel the sensations in his body, the numbness and the growing pain. In the Catholic Christian tradition, the creation story is the first story read during the Easter liturgy, after the light has been passed from candle to candle. After each section of the story, the congregation sings, “And God saw that it was good.”
In the Greek Orthodox tradition, the light of Christ comes out of the darkened tomb of the altar to the people gathered. That small flame becomes a giant glow as it is passed from one to another and the Easter Hymn, Christos Anesti, is sung over and over, joyfully. Christ is risen from the dead, by death trampling death, and unto those in the tombs, bestowing life.
We see because we are drawn to light, or because we create it. As the egg cracks, as the darkness comes to light, we begin to see ourselves as we really are. Exhausted, sad, regretful. Overly ambitious, to the point of forgetting to pay attention to the events and people who should slow us down. Too caught up in our thoughts or worries to be able to be present with those we love. Too angry, impatient, easily frustrated. Holding onto our own sins or those committed against us, still, after so many years.
We sit with that clarity, not trying to change it just yet. We don’t beat ourselves up, even though our instinct is to frantically list the ways we hope to become better people, to make an action plan, to get to work on it.
First, we simply breathe in all that is wrong. We breathe out our desire for healing. We become light.
Making a donation to Petalouda House:
We would appreciate a donation to Petlaouda House if you are reading along with these Easter reflections. But, we want to make this clear up front: your donation is not yet tax deductable. We are not sure yet whether our project will become a non-profit or continue to be a labor of love as it is now. We have ongoing needs--basic needs like clothing, food, work uniforms, lessons, etc. for those who live or will live with us--but we also have some larger goals. Our next goal is to make improvements to the property that will ensure that the foundation is sound (this will involve hauling a lot of dirt this summer!). Also, we hope to make one of our entrances disability accessible. The much more long-term goal is to finish an apartment over the garage so we can provide housing for a family or transitional and more independent housing to adults who live or will live with us. Finally, we currently only have one very old working vehicle. We will need a second, newer vehicle soon.
You can make a donation by sending a check made out to Argie Manolis or Tara Gromatka to 411 E. 4th St., Morris, MN 56267, with Petalouda House in the memo line, or transferring money via PayPal to argiemanolis@gmail.com.
Christ is Risen! Happy Easter!
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