Resurrection in Berclair

Bluebonnets in bloom intermittently dotted the median along the way from San Antonio to Berclair, the first promising sign that we were arriving at a good time. Air travel having proceeded on time, car rental smoothly following, and successfully navigating our way to the favorite Mexican food restaurant along the Riverwalk, we followed a leisurely pace toward the farm. A couple of grocery stores later (for basics like ripe avocadoes), and no wrong turns, we passed the big tree that signaled the entrance gate just around the bend. Thankfully, daylight was still in its fullness – fumbling with the padlock on the gate, locating the breaker switch outside the house activating the hot water heater, etc. can be a challenge in the dark – and unpacking followed uneventfully.

The Mexican Food still satisfying, we forewent supper, and sat instead on the patio out back beneath the live oaks and enjoyed the cool breeze and the calm. And the sounds of birds. And the rustle of the leaves. And the stillness of harried spirits. Lent had been full, after all, and Holy Week fuller still. By the dawn of Easter morning I felt like I was clawing my way on hands and knees to the empty tomb; getting there my primary objective moreso than savoring the joy of it. If nothing else, the farm in Berclair, TX is relaxing, and the mere thought of being there had been salivating all week.

And now sitting in the grand expanse of it beneath the trees, the sun slipping ever so subtly, it felt like the stone had, indeed, been finally rolled away.

Chilly now, with the sky coloring in the dusk, we begrudgingly went inside…
…to sleep
…and to smile with new life.