Cruising, COVID, and the Constant of Easter

A bucket-list vacation followed by five days of COVID isolation during the holiest week of the year, has spurred reflections on our ever-changing Easter traditions, and the ever-constant reason we celebrate.

Cruising.

Today is my husband Tom’s and my 34th anniversary! Fourteen years ago, just before our 20th, we took a Caribbean cruise with some dear friends. We had a great time but I must have missed our children at home (then ages 16, 15, 10, and 8), because ever since I’ve had “Take the whole family on a cruise” on my bucket list. 

Left: Us, 14 years ago after 20 years of marriage. Right: Us, last week, after 34 years! Still smiling!

Now the kids are young adults and we have a bonus daughter as well. Since they've all graduated from college and we had only two teacher spring breaks to deal with (which were thankfully, in sync), this was the year to check that dream off my bucket list!

We just returned from our 8-night Eastern Caribbean Cruise with ports of call at Coco Cay (Bahamas), San Juan (Puerto Rico), St. Martin/St. Maarten, and St. Kitts/Nevis. What a fantastic trip! (I’ll give you the full rundown in a future post.)

As we traveled home Sunday night and into the wee hours of Monday morning, we braced ourselves for reality. The daily grind of setting an alarm for work rather than the anticipation of the next port. The drudgery of cooking a meal and doing dishes after being served endless choices of food by entertaining and attentive wait staff. And wearing long pants and jackets again instead of living in our bathing suits. Hard as it was, we knew all fantastic things must come to a finish.

What we didn’t know was that our reality would include…COVID!

COVID.

Before boarding the ship, all seven of us had to show proof of vaccination and a negative test not more than two days before the trip. We wore our masks on planes and at the airport (but otherwise were free to un-mask). Staff on the ship and taxi drivers on the islands wore masks when serving us. Still, COVID is sneaky and will find you sooner or later. Lucky for us, it was later, and not before or during the trip!

We don’t know when she was exposed, but on our homeward journey, our daughter Leah started getting a sore throat and stuffy nose. She tested positive Monday night. Tom and I had symptoms and tested positive on Tuesday night. Chloe, our youngest, had mild symptoms as well, but tested negative on Tuesday and Wednesday. We thought she had escaped the plague until Friday evening when she tested “just to be safe” before going to the Good Friday service at church. She was positive.

Our theme song for the week has been, “And another one gone, and another one gone. Another one bites the dust!”

So the four of us are isolating together, much like we did two years ago on Easter Sunday, when both of our girls were sent home from college in March 2020. We know much more about the virus than we did then, and our symptoms are mild (thanks to our booster shots), so there is much less fear and uncertainty compared to two years ago. We’re just disappointed to miss the Easter celebration with our church family tomorrow morning.

(Above photos: Easter 2020 during pandemic lockdown.)

Easter holidays, especially the last several for me, have been a series of unpredictable and very different celebrations. This year we will be home with COVID. Last year, Easter was the day before my mother’s funeral–a timely reminder of the promises we were clinging to.

In 2020, we were adjusting to the new normal of a global pandemic as we quarantined at home. 2019 found us in Minnesota, attending a concert and Easter service Chloe performed in at St. Olaf College. In 2018, we entertained guests for dinner as Chloe brought college friends home, just before our 30th anniversary trip to Mexico.

For several years now, there’s been no pattern of traditions for Easter around our home. In the early years of our marriage, it seemed we had regular events–coloring eggs, Easter baskets for the kids before breakfast, heading off to church in our new spring clothes for an uplifting celebration, a ham dinner with Jello-jiggler eggs and hot cross buns, and an Easter egg hunt. Whether we celebrated at home, with my side of the family or with Tom’s, those were the traditions we could count on.

But not anymore. Easter celebrations have become as unpredictable as the day is on the calendar. Unlike Christmas, which falls on December 25th every year, we always have to check to see when Easter will be. On the surface, it appears to be unpredictable. It shows up from late March to late April, with seemingly no rhyme or reason.

Our Constant.

But there is a rhyme and a reason. Easter occurs on the first Sunday after the full moon that falls on or after the Spring Equinox. It’s as predictable as the spinning earth as it orbits the sun. As fixed as the cycles of the moon and the change of seasons.

We can count on it. Just like we can count on the event we celebrate. Easter, though ever-changing, is our “constant.”

Several years ago, our family enjoyed watching the popular TV series “Lost.” One of my favorite episodes, and arguably one of the best in the 7-year series, was “The Constant.” In it, the character Desmond is trapped in a time warp between two distinct moments in time. If he can’t find a way out, he will die. Through a series of events, he is told to find a “constant,” someone who is present in both time periods, who he can reach out to in the past when he reaches the future. Penny, an old girlfriend whom he still cares for, becomes his constant and, in a very dramatic scene, he contacts her, escapes the time-warp, and in doing so, saves his life.

I’ve always loved the idea of having a “constant.” Someone who will always be there for me when life becomes overwhelming. For 34 years, Tom has been my earthly constant. I know I can count on him. He’s there in the good times, like our cruise, the everyday going-to-work times, and the painful times, like the recent losses of my mom and dad.

But our human constants have limitations. Like ourselves, they are fallible and finite. 

Still, there is a greater Constant. His love is unlimited and perfect. He promises life over death. He conquered death himself. Our Constant is Jesus.

Last week, as I peered from the ship’s deck out into the ocean, the azure blue water stretched out as far as my eyes could see and reached depths beyond my power to imagine. When my mind tries to wrap itself around such magnitude, it turns to God. How can we fathom the Father’s love for us? How can we comprehend his Son’s sacrifice? With a love that is wider and deeper than the ocean, all we can do is wonder. 

Easter’s dates may vary from year to year. My traditions might change too. But the reason I celebrate will never change. 

This Sunday, I won’t be in church. I’ll be watching and singing from my couch instead. But the songs I sing and the words I believe will be the same as they’ve always been. 

In Christ alone my hope is found
He is my light, my strength, my song
This cornerstone, this solid ground
Firm through the fiercest drought and storm
What heights of love, what depths of peace
When fears are stilled, when strivings cease
My comforter, my all in all
Here in the love of Christ I stand

(In Christ Alone by Keith Getty and Stuart Townend)