This week’s guest blogger, Debby, offers some Easter sentiments. She describes herself thusly: I am the wife of a good man, the mother of good kids, the owner of a good dog, a baker of good bread. I am a hard worker. I keep the home fires burning (literally. We heat with wood.) I’m funny. I’m reverent. I’m irreverent. I’m sensible. I’m nonsensical. I’m on the right side of breast cancer (that chapter began September 26th, 2008, and, (please God) is finished. I am a loyal friend, good deed doer. I like to read, and to write. Oh. And I ain’t perfect. Debby writes at Life’s Funny Like That
Things are settling down, just as things always settle down. Hip is better. This week, I will hang out with my old friend and play scrabble.
Remember in the beginning of all of this when I told you that a woman from our church had announced that she was pregnant? With twins? And I couldn’t hug her, because I’d had some scan and was slightly radioactive? And then we had to go to Pittsburgh, to McGee Women’s Hospital later that week, and cruising around hopelessly looking for someone to vacate a parking place so that we could take it, we saw Steve and Jen? And I was able to jump out of the car and hug her in congratulations? Plus they were leaving so they gave us their parking spot? Remember? No? Well. Anyways, I got to hold one of those babies during church. She was wide awake and kicking her little pink shoe off a couple times, following every sound, just as content as she could be. At one point, her father leaned across her mother to ask if I wanted a break. “Nope,” I said. “This is a real treat for me.” And he said, wistfully, “So what are you doing at four in the morning?”
Anyhow, I can’t explain it really. It was Easter morning, and the baby was so sweet and happy. She cooed and giggled and chewed on her toy and drank her bottle and did all those things that babies do. I just had this sense of inevitability. Babies come, lives are lived, people die…it is the way of it. It is simply the way of it. I believe that all of this fits into a bigger framework. I don’t understand the why of it. But then again, that is not my job. So I played with that happy baby, and I listened to the sermon on resurrection. I went forward for communion, and the words were spoken as they have been spoken for over two thousand years: ‘Do this in remembrance of Me’. I stopped to let the baby look at the array of spring flowers and Easter lilies on the way back to our pew, and to let her marvel at the way the sun shone through the stained glass window. Her little hand reached out in wonder, her little eyes taking it all in, and it was well in my soul.
from: Life’s Funny Like That