Resurrection on the Playground

Many years ago, my first teaching job was in a small Catholic school. It only had an asphalt play area, so the children in the primary grades had permission to spend their recesses in the shady, green back garden of the convent next door. The garden had been the location of a somber funeral service the first graders had performed in early December for their classroom turtle. It seemed that he had died, so under the supervision of the rather naïve young nun who taught them, they dug a hole in the convent flowerbed and buried him. Then they all held hands and prayed and sang together for the soul of their beloved pet. 

One warm spring day, several months later, a group of little ones came tearing around the corner of the school building during recess, screaming and shouting. “He’s come back to life, just like Jesus,” they cried. As they gathered around me, lo and behold, one was holding the classroom turtle in his hand, and the creature truly was alive. “He’s been resurrected!” they all rejoiced. It was time for a science lesson on hibernation.

Long story short, that’s what my blog has been doing—hibernating. But unlike the little turtle, it’s been in that mode for much longer than a few months. Rather than suggesting that, like Jesus, it’s been resurrected, I prefer to picture myself doing some mouth-to-mouth resuscitation on it. Maybe along with a few chest compressions. The blog is now gasping, choking a bit, and sucking in big lungfuls of fresh, 2018 air.

I once heard an agent at a writer’s conference say that a blog that wasn’t current was “just plain creepy, like a ghost town.” Well, people have moved back in, and the place is under renovation. I invite you to stick around or come back often to see what’s going on. Lots of things have happened while my creepy ghost town was hibernating.