The Air Moves Again
April 5, 2026
A few weeks ago our washing machine finally gave up.
It had been acting wonky for a while, with the sensors periodically filling and draining at the same time. We wondered how much longer it would keep going — until one day it was done.
No amount of unplugging, hitting cancel, or restarting made the slightest difference. A call to the repairman quickly confirmed our diagnosis. So we did what people eventually do with worn-out appliances. We replaced it.
The new washer arrived a few days later, bright, quiet, and surprisingly efficient. The first time I started a load of laundry, I stood there for a moment just listening to the steady hum of a washing machine doing precisely what it was meant to do.
After weeks of thinking about lint traps, vent lines, delicate cycles, stains, and all the small metaphors of laundry that carried through this Lenten season, I found myself noticing the sound of happy washing.
Where once there was only stillness, now there is noise and movement.
Where there was a dead washer, there is new life.
Easter at the Crossroads
The Easter story also proves the cross is not the end.
After the grief and despair of Good Friday and the long stillness of Saturday, something unexpected happens — the tomb is empty!
Life appears, and the narrative picks up in a surprising way.
Easter is a bold declaration that despair, brokenness, and sorrow do not have the last word. Resurrection does not erase the marks of the past, but it tells us something far deeper.
Here at the crossroads between death and resurrection, Easter never promises us that every broken place will be restored exactly as it was before. Easter morning whispers something new…something better.
The story is not over.
This is a new day, and life goes on.
Grace washes over us.
Love pours out.
Even in a world where we sometimes miss the mark.
A Question and an Invitation
A Question: Where in your life have you begun to notice breath returning?
An Invitation: Try to pay attention today to the signs of life and warmth returning, to the faint stirring of hope where everything once felt still.
Remember — your story is not over.
With you in the clearing,
