Another month, gone.
March flew faster than I had time to even realize. According to photos, there were innumerable sick days, basketball games, watching wildlife from the windows, dinners consisting of comfort food, boys performing, and… that’s pretty much it.
And this past week, there was the Resurrection to celebrate.
The boys’ first Seder,
Clothes and table,
Fiona’s first basket of goodies,
Family time after church.
A truly special celebration. An annual hard-stop that my soul really benefits from. We push pause on whatever devotional track we’ve been on and just read along with Jesus’ activities during Holy Week. “Keep the kids quiet for a bit” meant working on their Holy Week coloring books I assembled (which they didn’t begin to finish, but that’s okay.) We talk about crucifixion, more than just the passing, “Jesus died for us,” that is our habit the rest of the year. This year, we sang the same two hymns every day, and can I tell you how wonderful it is to have two children old enough to follow along in their hymnals? And when we sang one of those hymns at the Good Friday service, and their eyes lit up with the pride of, “Hey, Mom, that’s our song!”, I just smiled. Treasures tucked into hearts. And for me, treasure unearthed and dusted off and reevaluated — and found to be even more precious than ever before.
Monday is sometimes hard for me after Easter. I wake up and realize the laundry is not miraculously gone and replaced by eternally-clean robes quite yet. My hair is nappy and I stink after exercising, since my body is subject to entropy and wear and tear. Kids get on my nerves by simply appearing too early, proving that I am still living quite firmly in the Not-Yet, needing sanctification. And these, I know, are small potatoes (embarrassingly small) when compared to the trials being experience by brethren around the world — even just down the street! But they are real, and they clue me in to this: I am yet groaning along with creation, looking for Jesus to come and make all things new. (Best, best, best promise ever.)
So this morning, as rumples appeared by the myriad in my soul, I thought about the stories following that wonderful Resurrection. I thought about this promise: “You shall receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you.”
Today, rumples and wrinkles, bumps and bruises, trials and temptations: TRUE.
But, even more true, and far more amazing: POWER of GOD to be a witness in the midst.
POWER of GOD in this very, very normal, nothing-special kitchen. This very earthly pile of crusted breakfast dishes. This list of not-very-Books-of-Acts-ish duties.
POWER of GOD. IN ME.