March.

March is a tease. The trees are heavy with red blossoms waiting to bloom and daffodils shine like the sun against the gray and brown landscape. But it’s cold outside, and spring hasn’t yet come to New England.

Actually, we’re supposed to get snow on Thursday, which is stupid.

Because we’re tired of being cold, we went to Canada for spring break 🙂 We mostly stayed inside, and it was fun.

While we wait for warmer, brighter days, I’ve been busy making the house feel like spring.

Linen and cotton pillows replace the soft, fury winter ones. Greenery is swept off the mantel by flowers and buds. If it’s cold outside, then we’ll just have to work at it being warm and cozy inside.

We closed out March with Easter. And though I love the meaning behind Easter, the death and resurrection of my wonderful Savior, I struggle with Easter every year.

When I was 22, fresh out of college and newly married, moving across the country was a wonderful adventure. I soaked that excitement up for years.

And then I became a mother.

Motherhood stirs in me such a deep homesickness. I wish my parents were closer, watching their grandchildren grow up. I wish my kids could play with their many cousins. And I wish I lived close enough to my brothers to give them a hard time every single day until they die just as they deserve.

And on Easter Sunday, I wish we were all crammed around my momma’s table for dinner together.

It’s hard coming home on Easter Sunday to a quiet house and just the four of us. Not because the four of us aren’t enough — I love my little family. But because holidays feel like they should be spent with family.

I hesitate to write these words because I don’t want it to sound like I’m asking for pity or an invitation to dinner. We have a wonderful community, and kind friends who often extend the invitation to join them and their families on special days; I’m so thankful for that.

But I choose to write these words because I know I’m probably not the only one who wrestles with sadness on a day that should be happy.

There are plenty of reasons the holidays can feel heavy in our hearts — death, divorce and broken relationships, isolation, the invisible fears and burdens we carry.

I think of a friend who just lost her dad, of another who’s estranged from her mom. So many heartaches that inch their way to the surface with the lump in our throat and the ache in our bones for something different.

So, if you’re sad when everyone else seems happy, I just want you to know that you’re not alone; it’s okay to feel that way.

Life this side of Eden is never just as we hope or expect it to be. It’s complicated — both achingly beautiful and devastatingly painful — sometimes all in the same hour or day.

But I will tell you one thing I like about Easter — I like that someday in heaven, I’ll sit at a giant table with all my family in Jesus — and we won’t be sad or lonely anymore. We won’t ache for belonging or the people we love, because we’ll finally be together.

Until that day, know you’re not alone and it’s okay to not be okay. Because of Easter, a better day is coming.