A Beautiful Easter Night

What an Easter. Without going into detail, I started the day knowing I owe some penance. Penance I've not really done before. Penance I'm not certain I can even pull off. As a quick note to anyone reading this who isn't a Christian, it isn't penance that saves us. Not at all. We Christians don't believe there is anything we can do on our own to achieve salvation. It's entirely God's grace that allows for our salvation. But penance is a good opportunity to get closer to God. And so, it is useful in that regard.

Now, with that in the background, I'll begin the story. I was driving home this evening. I live pretty far outside the city. I'm driving down what you might consider a country road. Very little traffic. No street lights. Ya know, country road. I hit a pothole that absolutely wrecks my tire. I go to put the spare on. Turns out the model of car I have hasn't got a spare - it rather has what's called a "tire mobility kit". Basically, some fix-a-flat and a plug in air compressor. This is not going to fix my tire. I give it the ole college try, but indeed the tool is not up to the task. As I'm putting the equipment away, my phone (which is in my shirt pocket providing its flashlight to the project) falls out and the screen shatters (because I'm an idiot who didn't get a phone case, and didn't pay enough attention to not let it fall). Anyway, I am now out of options. Fortunately, I'm only 4 miles from home, and the weather is nice, so the walk ahead is, if not exactly appealing, reasonable. And I begin to see it as as good a time as any to commune with the Lord, and on a clear Easter evening no less. It now seems a gift. Particularly with the penance ahead. In that way I'm looking forward to the walk. Although its late and certainly dark, the weather isn't bad and a little country road walking adventure would do me some good. As I'm locking the car, I think to myself / hear in my mind / get an inclination toward, "you are going to encounter something along the way home that scares the $#!t out of you - but the Lord will see you through."

And so, I start walking. Wondering what I might see on this impromptu little adventure. On rare occasions a vehicle, usually a large truck, whizzes past me. The only functional part of my phone is the flashlight, which I turn on to signal my presence any time I hear an approaching vehicle. Not inclined to be road kill. But there's plenty of shoulder I can use, and I'm thankful there aren't a ton of electric vehicles around these parts, as I quickly learn that when a car is going 70+mph, the time between my hearing it and its arriving is surprisingly short.

I'm in a short sleeve shirt and shorts; the air offers no discomfort. Just a mild crispness. I did bring along the thin, knit gloves I had in the car. And they're serving me well. I can see the lights of town ahead. They are small, and distant, and I realize my sense of perspective is quite off. I'm used to gauging my distance to far off lights while moving upwards of 60mph. Still, I figure I can't be more than an hour or so from home. There's a fair amount of stars out tonight, and the road isn't entirely dark. It’s a perfect time to do some talking to God. But I'm not really feeling able to. A bit distracted, but I've plenty of time for that to work itself out.

I get what I figure to be about halfway into my walk, and I hear them. A pack of coyotes to the north, yipping, hungry and excited. I know coyotes almost never attack people. I think I know that (right?). I know I have no real reason to be afraid of them (right?). But so serenaded by hungry beasts, alone on a dark, empty country road, with nothing but night sky and open field in my every direction, the romance of the walk recedes and I feel terrifyingly delicious. You see, I only pass through these parts in what might as well be a cool little time machine, moving at speeds both unnatural to man, and consistent to modern man's rhythm. It kind of sets our relationship to the land around us. The land becomes something we pass through - not something we linger in. And I'm now very aware that I'm an alien here. An alien outside of his crashed little ship, remembering that the locals, while we're passing through, they're doing a good deal of killing and eating one another.

My heart is moving now, and what I think I know about coyotes turns out to mean a great deal less to my nervous system than the fact that I am certain there are a pack of those mangy, hungry pricks in ear shot. Ah yes, what was foretold. Here it is. And scared I am. But offered an opportunity to hold onto faith. "Something told you that you'd encounter something, and that same something told you that you'd be fine - so believe in that." And I'm believing in that - but I'm also believing that trying to hitch a ride from the next passing car ain't such a fool's errand. One passes a few minutes later. They aren't stopping. Why would they? I wouldn't. Not if I were alone or with my children I wouldn't. No one in their right mind is picking up some middle-aged weirdo at midnight on a country road. I am on my own here. But I'm not - not really. Not if I'm the kind of man who believes reality contains more than the material world. And indeed, I am such a man. Other men, those without faith, would dismiss the relationship between the prior thought of "you're going to encounter something" and the sudden awareness of carnivores hunting nearby as simply obvious. "Well, of course you had that thought - you're likely to 'encounter' something. It's late at night, it’s dark, and you're bound to over-react to something you can't see, or see improperly. And just as well, it'll most likely harm you not at all - because all you're 'encountering' is your own over-reaction to a rare circumstance." And that makes perfect sense - except to the religious. We are convinced there's a veil between our world and ultimate reality, and occasionally we get hints of that beyond. Little touches of divine wind rustle the curtain, often so gently that you wouldn't see it, if not for what others would call coincidence or happenstance, and what we know to be the Holy Spirit focusing our eyes on what He wants us to pay attention to. And I am paying attention tonight.

Obviously I made it home fine. I am not brought safely home by a miracle. No legion of angels was needed to get the fat guy a few miles down the road. Coyotes really don't attack people, no matter how succulent and vulnerable they're feeling, Nothing harrowing happened. I just took a walk. But when penance was on the menu so I could have occasion to get closer to God, a few things fell into line such that I was given to feel actual fear, wholly alone, with nothing to lean on but God. And it was all beautiful. Damn beautiful. When I got about a mile from home, I saw what looked like a brilliant orange archway to the east. I was confounded as to what I was seeing, but soon it became apparent that I was seeing the rising of a truly gorgeous harvest moon. Spectacular. I'd never seen one crest the horizon before. Anyway, that was how Easter ended. I wanted to be closer to God today. And lo and behold, He made that happen in a most unexpected and thrilling way.

. . . . . . . .

It’s April 10th, 2026. It’s roughly the same time of night I’d started writing the piece above. I have to add an addendum to this. I just remembered that on my way to pick up my father for Easter dinner, several hours before the pot-hole and tire incident described above, I had learned that the chorus to the old 80s song “Kyrie” by Mr. Mister means “Lord, have mercy on me” in Greek. And had sought the song out to listen to it that afternoon. I listened to it again a moment ago, if you know the lyrics to the song, you’ll get why I felt it important enough to make this little note to the piece above. Some coincidences are far too coincidental to be mere coincidence. I thrilled at this moment. A small fit of religious ecstasy overtook me moments ago, as I realized again the undeniable weight of the “coincidence”; and the gravity of what it means. The ancient line “seek, and ye shall find; knock and the door shall be opened” isn’t just something that sounds cool. Seek God, and He will show Himself. He will make very clear to you that the Lord and Master of all Creation cares enough about you to take a moment to bend reality around you, to rustle the veil, such that you know He’s there. And likely He’s doing it for millions of others all at the same time. Imagine the skill that takes Him, and how easy He makes it look. Because to Him it all really is just that simple.