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Easter occurred far too early this spring. I wasn’t prepared for it, really, but given my success (or lack thereof) in sticking to what I had given up for Lent … well, perhaps it was a blessing that Easter fell in March rather than mid-April.

This sign caught my attention as I drove through Strasburg en route to The Ville:

He Is Risen

Once I got to my parents’ house, I got to meet Yolanda, Delra’s super-cute new Yaris.

Yolanda & Delra

We all ate lots of food, and we talked and laughed a lot, as we usually do at our family gatherings.

Outside, there were birds.


Bird in Dogwood

The only moment that annoyed me was when Mom got all fussy (just for a second) over where I had parked my car out front and insisted that I park in the back, instead, to leave room for the others. So I moved my car to the carport in front of the small garage.

Then, hours later, when I got in my car to leave, I looked down at the wet pavement and saw my dad’s initials and the year he put them in the concrete — which originally served as the floor of a dog pen in which we kept our beagles, Pat and Mike. (I just barely remember them, but I’ll never forget their names!)

I had never before seen the initials. After my parents gave away the beagles, the pen and the shed next to it were used for storage for many, many years before my parents went on a major backyard renovation project over the last two or three years.

It felt good to be reminded of Dad.

HW 1967

Easter Basket

My mom made me an Easter basket; my best girl gave me an Easter bunny — with very un-bunny-like legs!

Easter Bunny

When it comes to holidays, I’m partial to Easter. Partly because I was born on Easter Sunday, 1965, but also because, if you’re a Christian, which I am — I mean, I’m not real good at it, from the Scripture-reading, buckle-down-and-get-serious-about-it religious aspect, but I do believe in God and Jesus, and I try to be a good, loving person — then Easter is a very significant holiday. A very significant event.

(Plus: All that CANDY!)

I read a little Luke last night before bedtime. It’s not easy to read stories when you already know how they’re going to turn out, especially one in which the hero dies in such a tragic, gruesome manner. Granted, my lil’ red Bible is nowhere near as graphic as The Passion of the Christ, but you get the idea, still, if you allow yourself to imagine an actual crucifixion as you read.

What struck me most, this time, was a passage in which Jesus was talking to his disciples, his followers, on their last night together, and he told them to think of him as their friend. Yeah, he was their Lord and Master and Teacher, and they were his followers, yet he wanted them to know that he was their friend, too. How cool is that?!

Kind of gives me an even better perspective on the friendships I’ve been lucky enough to have made in this lifetime.

Another passage contained the words, more or less, to a song we used to sing in high school youth group. Maybe you’ve heard it, too?

These things I have spoken unto you
That my joy
Might remain in you, and that your joy
Might be full.

We used to sing it in a round. I can still remember Rob’s deep baritone voice and Mindy’s soprano and Robyn’s harmonizing alto, and others, like myself, not so much melodic as enthusiastic.

Anyhoo, happy Easter!

February 2020
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