This quote stood out to me and felt so relevant right now, both because of Easter Sunday, of course, and because of positive changes in my own life lately. This is a happy Easter for so many reasons, and I am looking forward to celebrating the day with my husband.
Happy Easter Sunday!
“Let every man and woman count himself immortal. Let him catch the revelation of Jesus in his resurrection. Let him say not merely, ‘Christ is risen’, but ‘I shall rise.’ “– Phillips Brooks
I was raised Catholic, and my mom was deeply religious, so this week has me thinking of her even more than ever. I remember coloring Easter eggs at the dining room table with my brothers, that food coloring mixed with vinegar, so that to this day, the smell of vinegar reminds me of coloring eggs. She showed me how to use a white crayon to draw a design on the egg shell before dipping it, and I marveled at my artwork appearing like magic on the colored egg (usually purple, my favorite color).
I remember her hiding our Easter baskets in the house so that we had to hunt for them, laughing and searching behind the couch, in cabinets, everywhere we suspected a basket full of chocolate bunnies and jelly beans might be stashed out of sight, while she watched and offered hints as needed.
And, of course, I remember going to church, wearing my best dress for Easter Sunday, my typically rowdy hair brushed into submission and my legs peppered with mosquito bites, scrapes, and Band-Aids. I can still perfectly picture that tiny church, sunlight filtering through the stained glass windows, the waxy smell of candles in the air, the smooth, dark wood of the pews. On Easter Sunday, those pews would be filled with pastel pinks and blues and yellows, colors of spring and hope and new growth.
I drifted away from attending church as I got older, and I know that disappointed my mom. But her influence never completely left me, and much more of it stayed with me than she ever suspected. Most people might be surprised to know that I begin each morning with a prayer for all of my loved ones: my husband, the kids, my brothers. I say thanks for all that we have and for us finding each other. My husband is, beyond a doubt, the greatest blessing of my life, and I do believe that something beyond fate led us to each other.
This Easter Sunday, I won’t be sitting down on the footstool in the living room for my father to brush the knots out of my hair, and I won’t be grumbling under my breath as I tug a lacy, frilly dress over my head. I won’t load up in the car with my brothers, and I won’t sit next to my mom at church, listening to her sing, resting my head against her shoulder and smelling her light perfume.
But I will still celebrate Easter, in my own way. I will still think of my mom, my dad, and that tiny church. I will reach out to my brothers, try to connect over so many miles in between us. I will reflect on Easter and its significance and its meaning in my life. And I will say my silent prayers, say thank you for my husband, and be grateful that I will spend the day with someone I love so dearly.
Does the weekend have to be over already? I took an extra day off to enjoy Easter with the kids, and to celebrate my birthday. It was a much-needed break and a beautiful weekend.
The weather was perfect, and our entire crew ended up at the park for most of one day. These days, when it’s commonplace to see teenagers doing nothing but gawking mindlessly at their cell phones, it was so nice to see them running around, being active, having fun. So maybe we won’t be scooped up any time soon by sports team scouts! Who cares? We had a good time.
My stepkids said their stomachs hurt from laughing so hard. I even got a headache from laughing and had to round up some aspirin before getting back into the game. When our own mad skills are that entertaining even to ourselves, well, that’s when you know you are good! Ha ha. Okay, maybe “good” is stretching the truth on our athletic prowess. It didn’t stop us. We jumped from sport to sport, and we even came back to the park after dinner, heading home only when it got dark.
Everyone slept quite well after such an active day. And the next morning, when my eyes fluttered open and I tried to stretch…I quickly realized just how active we had been! Every muscle, tendon, and joint in my body was sore and stiff. I gingerly rolled over to put my arms around my husband, and he said he was sore too. We joked about barely being able to move and how odd parts of our bodies were sore, like my forearms. How does that even happen?
We deserved a good, fun, relaxing weekend, all of us. So many weekends, my husband and I have to dry tears, answer tough questions, things we can’t possibly explain about why other people do the selfish things they choose to do. So many weekends, we have to try so hard to heal wounds inflicted by others, do our best to scrape out garbage dumped into their heads and help the kids see that the world doesn’t need to be constantly drowning in drama and negativity. Instead of being forced to clean up the damage done by others, it was nice to just enjoy being together and laughing and having fun.
I didn’t even realize until just now that I don’t have a single picture from our weekend. When we were at the park, my phone was in the truck, and I forgot it was there. Come to think of it, none of us even thought about glancing at a phone the entire day. I would be disappointed about not having any pictures, but honestly, I like it better knowing we were all too busy having fun to bother with anything else.
Did everyone else’s weekend fly by in the blink of an eye, or was it just me? And since I’m just now writing about the long-gone weekend on a Thursday afternoon, obviously the week is steaming past pretty quickly too.
Easter weekend was beautiful, and much too short! We didn’t go to church. I don’t get into that whole thing about needing some puke-pastel new dress for Easter mass. When did Easter turn into a church fashion show, anyway? I am not into organized religion at all. I consider myself spiritual, but once you add the human factor to it, it’s just ruined to me. Too much chest-pounding, attention-seeking, grandstanding, self-gratification, self-satisfied judging, gossiping, etc., while everything about simply being a good person to others gets mostly, if not entirely, lost. Not sure why I got onto that tangent, but there you go, my sermon about religion, for your reading pleasure. Now go in peace.
Before I knew it, I was back at work on Monday morning, convinced we had missed a day somewhere over the weekend. That afternoon, my older stepson sent me a text, asking if I wanted to do something together when I got home from work. I was surprised. What red-blooded 19-year-old wants to hang out with his old, boring, nerd of a stepmom? (Just kidding. I’m totally cool. At least I like to think so. Not sure anyone else does, though!)
The three of us (my stepson, me, and my equally cool husband) got together after work and had a good time, blowing off steam and being silly and just having fun. I enjoy just watching the two of them together, laughing and carrying on. They get louder and louder, trying to one-up the other. It’s amazing we’ve never been escorted forcefully from any establishment.
Good news: I am breathing freely, no longer popping decongestants like candy, and have had no issues with my foot for at least a week. This weekend I’d like to gently, slowly, and cautiously ease back into running, which will be light jogging until I’m sure that god-awful pain is not going to come back!
Sweat & Sparkle 