He is risen.
Yes, last Friday was Good Friday, followed closely by Easter Sunday. It was good to again focus on the monumental events that these days celebrate, events that shook all of history and haven’t diminished after two millenniums.
It is traditional that after the Good Friday morning church service, those of the congregation who are interested go on a hike following an old railway bed from around Port Hope to Bethany. Anyone is welcome to go 10 miles to a pickup point, while only the guys can continue to camp (it’s a guy bonding thing). After sleeping (?!) over at camp, the survivors stumble along for another 15 miles to the conclusion.
As I squirmed around in my sleeping bag wearing two sweatshirts, two pants, and longjohns and still feeling the frozen ground sapping my meager body heat, I pondered in my mind why exactly I was there rather than under my electric blanket at home. I’m not sure I came up with a good answer…
We were pretty late starting in the morning, but after seeing “Fritters ahead” written in the snow we surged forward to the oasis of Millbrook where Unc and Joe were waiting with delicious fritters and hot coffee.
The hours and miles marched on and by about 13:00 on Saturday my mental activity had been reduced to “left, right, left, right”. At last the goalposts were in sight and I lurched over the finish line. The ride home was surprisingly brief. A long, hot shower… Pizza at Oma’s place… A footrub by my wonderful mom… I think they made the whole thing worthwhile. I think…