A Fairy Tale Easter

If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans. 

G.K. Chesterton has said that one of his favorite sensations was the moment when you are in a tunnel and you burst out of the darkness into the sunshine. That is what Easter feels like. We can be happy again. At the beginning of Lent, I prayed that God truly make me penitent, I prayed that God truly make me grow, I asked God to change things. Everything changed in the past two months for me. I look back at the life I lived and everything seems touched, changed, altered. The more I live, the more I think that it is for the better. And that is a beautiful thing. Before I entered the tunnel of Lent, things seemed very bright. But now, exiting the tunnel, things seem just a bit brighter.

I'm excited to live. I'm excited to plunge into the depths of my life, to explore, to laugh, to eat and to drink and to be merry, I am excited to cry and gnash my teeth, excited to look up at God and ask Him "Why?" It is all life. It is all an intrical part of the human experience.

If reading Fairy Tales has taught me anything, it is that life is extraordinary. Fairy Tales aren't really an escape for me, they are a reminder. When I open up Peter Pan and read about Wendy giving Peter a "kiss" (in the form of a thimble) I don't do it to escape the drudgery of modern romance, I read it because it reminds me of the innocent, playful wonder that romance carries with it. When I flip through Alice in Wonderland, it isn't to escape the unfortunate order of the universe, it is to remind me that this world can be silly, strange, outrageous, and, dare I say, hilariously and wondrously fun. The point is that the fairy tales are not so much fairy tales after all. We live in the greatest fairy tale ever told, where (to the slightly romantic eye) knights fight dragons and wizards sling spells and heroes and angels and gods (beware, demons too) walk among us. Every moment of our lives is a chapter in a dramatic and fanciful tale that would amaze and astound readers if it were told.

Even the sorrow. Even the pain. Who can say that Medea's rage is not poetic and mystifying? Or, for a more modern example, who can watch Hathaway's heart shattering performance in Les Mis and not be enchanted? The sorrows and the sadness of life can be just as exciting, just as noble as the joys. You only need to see it with a slightly romantic eye.

Peace
- The Boy Pilgrim