Resurrection

Yesterday afternoon when I found in our woods five baby opossums clinging to life on their dead mother's body, I didn't know where I'd find help on Easter Sunday. Who would be open on a holiday? The Triangle Wildlife Rehabilitation Clinic, thank goodness.

As a part of its mission, the clinic "provides care for sick, injured, and orphaned native North American wildlife" and is open every day. Running on the usual non-profit shoestring, the staff and volunteers tend to squirrels, turtles, rabbits, native birds, snakes, and just about every little creature you can think of.

A far different enterprise from the pageantry at Duke Chapel, where I had attended Easter services earlier in the day. An inspiring and humbling sermon I heard for sure, but not quite as humbling as the modest animal clinic that took in five two-month-old opossums destined otherwise for death.

The natural world, it turns out, assures us that the Easter story will be told over and over again in infinite variety. How fortunate that we get to play a part.