If you were expecting a warm little piece about the wonders of Easter or family life, well, so was I. The holiday started off happily enough. We packed the van full of children and Easter candy, enjoyed a pleasant drive ending with an ecstatic reunion between grandchildren and grandparents who have been separated far too long--Ok, several weeks, and settled in for this most important day of the year. I was sent to bed early when the combined after-affects of frenetic gardening and writing left me unable to count my own hand during cribbage.
The fun began shortly after midnight when my husband realized we'd left everybody's Easter clothes back home. We tried to strategize a solution, but our efforts turned out to be unnecessary when the 3rd and the 5th began alternating vomiting and having unfortunate adventures with urine. The unfortunate events continued throughout the day only the 4th took over for the 5th in the misplaced urine events. I'd like to say I learned some uplifting lesson, but mostly I just sympathized with our 3rd when she said she didn't know what God was thinking. I suppose tending to and being tended by the people you love best is a good way to remember Christ on Easter, but we were all thinking of several other more pleasant ones.
I'm grateful that our little trials can't dimish the ultimate glory of Easter. I'm glad that even if everything failed to come off except the hitches, that we at least had something so good to try to celebrate, and that ultimately there will be a celebration that even the flu can't touch.
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