On the way to the vernal pond, I notice how we can't even approach it unless we pass through the thorns. There's no way around them.
These thorns tangle and form a crown above us.
This Easter, I think of the passage Christ paves through that crown of thorns he wore at the crucifixion. And today, that beautiful resurrection means I enter in, and I'm free.
A paradise awaits, but I have to pass through the thorns.
Journal: He is risen indeed! Have I walked through that free passage, marked by the crown of thorns?