Sunday, April 24, 2011

Sons of Men and Angels Say Hallelujah!

This Easter did not start out particularly well.

I had slept poorly, one of those fitful nights that are inevitable when I try to cram an entire year of gardening into one fitness-impaired afternoon with resulting knee creaks and back tweaks. Then when I finally managed a deep sleep, the alarm went off so that I could start Easter dinner.

I discovered that it's impossible to grate Velveeta in the food processor, even though the recipe clearly call for grated Velveeta, and then I spent a precious 15 minutes digging gummy pre-chewed cheese product out of every cranny in the machine.

My hairdryer ground to a halt and blew puffs of smoke as I was hurrying to get to church in time for  choir practice, leaving my 'do undone.

Worst of all, when I put out Grandma's Fiestaware and the chicken napkin rings in preparation for Easter dinner, the stack of plates was only three high--one for me, one for Husband, and one for Mother-in-Law. This is the first major holiday in which we've had no Boys with us.

"It's okay," I told them when it became clear that schedules were not working out to have them at home. "Easter really is a spiritual holiday, not a command performance." (Thanksgiving, if they had any doubt, is a command performance.) And truly, I meant this, but I still missed my sons.

As I hulled strawberries and cleaned asparagus for lunch, though, I began to think of Easters past, when I went to bed exhausted Saturday night after making sure every Boy had clean dress socks and the right tie and a belt. (Dress socks and belts were forever disappearing. How? Where? Why?) Then Easter morning was a wild rush to get everyone through the shower and out the door. By the time I reached the sanctuary my mind was on lunch, and whether I remembered to turn the temperature down under the ham.

This year, though, was different. Without the bustle of Easter egg hunts and the responsibilities that go with being the mom, I felt my soul expanding. I thought of the conversation I had with my father yesterday, when we talked about how very fundamentally different this holiday is from all the others during the year.

"On Good Friday, when I realize it's about mid-afternoon, I feel grief in my soul, but Sunday is pure joy," he said.

This year, without the pull of Martha's distractions, I  followed Mary's example as she focused on the Savior. I thought of His sacrifice, and His love for me and mine, and once again Easter was pure joy.

Christ the Lord is risen today! Hallelujah!

1 comment:

  1. I just had to say that your comment on Mir's Easter blog posting made me laugh out loud. It sounded exactly like something my mother would say (though she is an older empty nester than you!). Happy Easter - thankful for grace on this Monday morning. =)