One early Easter morning

 

 

Recreating an annual picture.

I had a lovely start to Easter this morning. You know how girls talk about the BFF? Mine really is—Barbara Ashcraft has been my BFF probably for over seventy years. This morning, I wakened to her email which was a quote from music we sang in choir when we were about ten or twelve: “One early Easter morning, I wakened with the birds.” I answered with the next line: “And all around lay silence/Too deep for earthly words.” No need to say anymore.

Easter is a glorious day of hope—but it can also be exhausting. By mid-afternoon, I was exhausted and felt the day was over. But such a wonderful day. We went to the nine o’clock service—more crowded than usual but not bad. The music was glorious. I said I’d go to church just for the processional, “Jesus Christ is Risen, Alleluia!” and the benediction, which was the “Hallelujah Chorus.” But it was good to be there in person and hear the inspiration of the service and sense the fellowship. At one point Christian and I thought we heard a dog panting, but no one else believes us.

I really noticed some differences between being present and attending through Zoom. It is impressive and comforting to be in that gorgeous sanctuary and nothing can compare with hearing the music live—they had brass as well as our terrific choir. I hold my breath at the high notes of the “Hallelujah Chorus” every time, but they made them. But you don’t get that up-close view—I couldn’t see the brass at all, not could I see the expressions on faces. I like in-person better, but I feel so fortunate to have the alternative on “ordinary” Sundays.

Girls version
I felt like the queen bee, because everyone
came to have their picture taken with me.

Back at the house, Jordan put together an incredible brunch for twelve and set a beautiful table with the gold-and-white Royal Doulton my mom got me when I was a teen, along with gold-washed flatware. It was potluck, and we had ham, “funeral potatoes” (that wonderful rich casserole) broccoli salad, fruit, and of course deviled eggs. My contribution was hot cross buns, but I note no one else likes them as much as I do. And wine. Of course we had wine. It was a noisy, happy laughter-filled event, everything Easter should be.

Jordan's table

Now I am marooned in the cottage, having left my phone in the house by mistake. I can’t ask for leftovers for my supper, can’t even adjust my hearing aids. Can’t check to see if my other kids are at their homes, let alone call them. I’ve emailed a bunch of friends asking them to call Jordan, but not many read their email on a holiday Sunday night. One friend reports she called and got voice mail, so I gave her Christian’s phone number. But I imagine they are both napping (which I did earlier), so I hope they check their messages when they wake up. And I’m watching like a hawk for Jacob to come home or for Jordan and Christian to bring the dog out to potty.

I started this post with a quote and will leave you with another that I really like. This is from John Roedel, who I’ve never heard of but now I intend to investigate—he has apparently published books about his conversations with God as he tries to figure out life, his faith, raising children, and so on. “A dozen angels have started living in the holes in my heart. They have put up hammocks and started growing roses—” There’s more, but now I can’t find it. I particularly like that opening image.

Does this look like mischief afoot?