Being Easter people, we will proclaim ‘Hallelujah!’

But this Easter it’s difficult to hear that message. Deep down, I hear those words reverberate. I hear the reminders of Hallelujah, the reminders of Jesus’s salvation, but the bleak desolation of the world around us makes it hard to find solace in the Easter story.
    

We went for a family walk, maintaining our 6 feet (and plus) distance between ourselves and any others we happened upon in the park. It was a new park – new to us at least – as we told ourselves that we should make some effort to get to know our new city, even in the midst of the pandemic. Why not explore a different park, with new scenery?
    

As we came in view of the playground, my heart sank and my stomach turned. The bright plastic colors contrasting with the rusted metal swings and tables were covered in caution tape. It looked like a crime scene; something I had only seen in the movies or TV shows, in those horrific moments when a child has gone missing – or something worse has happened.
    

The twins cooed and babble-sang to their stuffed animals, oblivious to the world around them. It’s a nice feeling, I think, to be cocooned, to be blissfully unaware of the pandemic raging around us, and only somewhat discombobulated by a slight change in routine and the (yummy) addition of ever-varied purees.
    

But as we strolled past, I couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down my face. The boys are just at the age when playgrounds would have been a welcome respite from the monotony of playing in the house. When we would hear their shrieks and giggles as they glide through the air in baby swings. Not to mention the beginning of playdates at the park, just as the weather is beginning to warm and spring fades into summer.
    

This was not my vision for my children’s first year of life. I started to compile photos and piling memorabilia and objects that I wanted to save to start the first-year memory box. It hit me that there won’t be any traditional first Easter mementos. No special Easter clothes after their first Easter Mass or the joy of watching them attempt to grab at eggs placed just outside of their reach while mom and dad do most of the hunting. 
    

And who knows what the future holds for a first birthday.
    

But we are “Easter people.” We rejoice in rebirth and regeneration. As I look at my children, in their beautiful innocence, happy to simply be held and loved, I’m reminded of those echoing Hallelujahs. 
    

And in those moments, I remember that we have the opportunity to begin again: That when this pandemic passes, we have new stories to write, stories that involve an awareness of just how little we need and a reminder of those aspects of our everyday lives that must never be taken for granted. 
    

Dr. Heather Bozant Witcher can be reached at [email protected].