Easter.

.
.
Rising from the dead is a thing I consider often.  One did it in the finest fashion, of His own accord, and died for a reason in the first place.  Like a little brother who just hasn't caught how to do the trick, I keep doing my little thing.  So, please, don't roll a rock in front of my door.  Oh, I'll get through it, just not without a lot of effort.  I am actually not sure if it is the resurrection I can't do well, the healing that comes with it, or the dying that has me confused.  All in good time.  A bit jealous, perhaps.  Still, I know He will eventually teach me the rest of the trick.  Probably just in the wrist, like roping?

I really do have more reason to consider, even believe, in Christ's resurrection.  It isn't unbelievable to me.  Some parts, ascending to heaven, healing from death, these things I have to take on faith, but they are much easier if you can believe that even a mere man can walk out of the grave without divine... or direct divine intervention.  And He simple did what He did, with full intent albeit.  Christ did not call me from the grave, and God did not send me back to earth that one time.  With that covered, the rest isn't much of a stretch.

Still, it's an impressive act.  More, it is the third part of a three part deal that is all as impressive as the previous act, and then some.  Beside delivering hope for the resurrection to perfection, or the potential should we choose that, it is the hope of perfection itself.  There is so much thought that can be focused here, in so many places.  Ideas, notions, emotions, much as the men whose nets were dry until Christ told them to cast their nets on the other side.  He tells me, of mind and soul, to cast over here.  And I too am richly rewarded.  While I must war with those who refuse to believe, often, I spend as much... nay more time... praying for them.  Such an empty and doomed life without miracles, hope, and the possibility of perfection.  I understand why they shoot for a utopia on earth.  I also realize why they will always fail, and the costs.

A call to my mother.  Perhaps I will call my brother as well.  I don't like disturbing his little life, invading his domain.  He is lonely, but an insane (according to the world) pseudo-profit of doom, is not a fit companion.  He is a simple, humble, man.  He has a nice little family.  A rabbit?  Maybe.  He has enough weight to carry.  It isn't me, but my message, that is heavy.  And, further, it really isn't for him.  Or even you.  As noted, it is just a thing, in the background, for me, as far as I can tell.

Never worry too much about it, in any case.  When a man can work himself to exhaustion, and then not sleep past reason, for eight, twelve, even fifteen hours, and in the past a day or three or week, his mind will bend a little to a lot.  As with last night and what I wrote.  So far beyond just mere exhaustion, but sleep was out of the question, so the deserts of the mind were travailed.  Things were seen, touched, explored, found, and some of it lost in the mists as my time ran down.

Never mind.  I hope you enjoy this Easter of mind and spirit, with family friends or on your own.  I hope you enjoy the world we are in and can yet contemplate the world to come.  It is, none of it, truly bad.  It is what we make of it, as is, and how we go forward with our givens and little crosses, that will make the difference.  We have had a Sibling show us that the monsters under the bed, while real, can't hurt us in the final truth.  It can be a long hard road, but it's not impossible, with faith, and a loving God.

Good day.