Happy Easter! The sun is shining and it’s a beautiful morning here in Bellingham.
Though I’m not religious anymore, I can’t help my feel a flutter in my heart on Easter morning. When I was a girl attending the Easter service, with the pastel dresses, the heady scent of the incense, and the joy in everyone’s heart, I felt like a glass of 7-Up, bubbling from my toes up to my head, so delighted was I at the happiness that filled the church.
Though I don’t go to Easter service anymore, Easter morning still fills me with a similar, childlike excitement. I think that thrill comes from the promise of spring’s return. The piercing beauty of the blooming daffodils and forsythia and the stimulating scent of a freshly mowed lawn remind me that we have circled round again to this place of beginnings. As the earth is waking up and bursting forth, I am compelled to do the same.
Last week I sent out query letters to about fifteen literary agents, looking for representation of me and my book. Four responded, inviting me to send them my book proposal. Two have since emailed me back saying they don’t want to represent me (ouch!) and two have yet to read my proposal. So I’m holding this place of waiting with tenderness – as I would a new shoot emerging from the earth – and with hope – as I do each winter when the incessant rain persists.
Taking this risk makes me feel like a child again. I feel that bubbling feeling from my toes and know that, no matter where this process leads me, I am stretching and growing as willfully and intentionally as a blade of grass.