Jacob and Eva today
For
complicated reasons, I did not go to church this morning but watched online.
The rest of the family went to the nine o’clock service and sat in the very
front row with two couples who are their good friends and to whom I feel close.
And one couple had their daughter, Eva, with them. Jacob and Eva have known
each other all their lives—born two months apart—but
rarely see each other
these days. For several years, we had an Easter tradition of brunch at the
house following the nine o’clock service (a couple of years it was the sunrise
service!). Covid called a two-year halt to that, so it was fun to see the two
of them together again. And to 
Jacob and Eva
2014
be with the adults.
Some year in between
I
admit I got a little teary, the good kind of tears, seeing them all sitting in
the front row. The Burtons have not been back to church in person since
pandemic, so it was an occasion. They had worried about getting seats—the Easter
services are always overflowing—so I laughed that they were in the front row.
Hope our minister friend noticed. Even online, the service was lovely, the
sermon good (“the worst is never the last” which sounds like a more intellectual
way of saying what a physical therapist said to me not too long ago: “God’s got
you!”).
The
music was glorious (and would have been more so had I been sitting in church in
person). The melody and words to so many old hymns are firmly fixed in my mind
from childhood. I was never much of a singer (neither my dad nor I could carry
a tune, but we sang heartily, making up for melody with volume) and now, with
age, my singing voice is weak. But watching at home, I could sing along—and I
did. They sang “Jesus Christ is Risen, Alleluia!” and another familiar one—my
mind just went blank—and then the Hallelujah Chorus. I did not sing along
with that but I was much impressed by a soprano in the choir who closed her
music and sang from memory. She had a strong voice and pretty much carried
those extremely high parts.
Everybody
adjourned for brunch—a noisy, happy affair with several conversations going at
once, but lots of fun. It was potluck and very good, though we repeated some of
the dishes at a traditional mid-day dinner with Christian’s family. Different
folks, but still lots of laughter.
There was
some picture taking, and it provided, for me, the only sour note. Five or so
years ago we had taken a picture of me with the girls who went to church this
morning, so nothing would do but we duplicate it. Then there was a picture of
me with the guys (including Jacob) and finally, one of me with one of the guys
which again duplicated one from several years ago. I had taken care with my
hair, fresh and clean, and I had on my new sunflower shirt (a tribute to
Ukraine), so I smiled my way through the pictures. I have to say, defensively,
I have never been photogenic: my grandfather used to tell my mom the only place
he would hang her picture was in the barn because she took such a poor picture
(parenting has changed, thank goodness). I think I inherited that mindset from
my mom. For several years Bobbi Simms was half mother/half friend to me. She
also as the kids said, “Told it like it is,” and she used to worry about why I
never look as good in a picture as in real life.
Today’s
pictures were pretty bad. I look like a pale but puffy old lady with wispy thin
hair. Not at all how I feel or think of myself. I will only share one, but you’ll
see the contrast between me and those vital women in the forties. Two resolves:
I’m going to put on make-up more often, and I emailing my haircut person
tonight.
I hope, if you celebrate, that your Easter was as full of blessings as mine. Remember, the worst is not the last. The ending is up to God.
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