From our gang to yours, happy belated Easter.
Resurrection Day began on a stressful note (as do most Sunday mornings at our house, I shamefully admit). Knowing that the kids' choir was singing in the later service, I set my alarm for 7 a.m. That would surely give me enough time to put together the squash casserole I would be contributing to the annual Easter gathering at the in-law's .
Things went well until I decided 15 minutes before we should have been leaving the house that I really couldn't bear to skip a shower after all. Clean and late or on-time and miserable?? The shower won out, but unfortunately, there was no time for makeup. I was putting on mascara in the car with one hand and holding onto the casserole dishes with the other when my honeyed carrots decided to overflow their banks. Sticky honey sauce dripped all over my new pants, and I was sucking in a big breath of air before exploding in anger when I remembered that it was Easter Sunday. In the grand scheme of things, was my vegetable mess really that big a deal? A big enough deal to completely ruin the morning with an outburst on the way to church? Thankfully, I had the presence of mind to realize that it wasn't.
I braced the kids for the likelihood that we would not make it to church in time for them to sing with their choir, and all three were gracious in their responses.
"It's okay, Mom," one said. "We know you've been working really hard this morning to make us look nice and to cook some good stuff for lunch."
Wow. I didn't expect that. I wondered what their response would have been had I given in to the temptation to scream loudly a few moments before.
When we finally arrived (after pulling over to mop up part of the carrot mess with a towel), the kids' choir was halfway through their second song (of four), and a very kind lady ushered them into the sanctuary and onto the risers so they could finish out the performance. I survived seven hours in my sticky clothes, and we had a mighty fine time (and some incredible food) at our family dinner.
He is risen, folks. He is risen indeed.
May we celebrate each and every day of our lives the death that gave us life.