Postcards from the weekend

by chuckofish

Kilroy was (t)here. (We missed you!)

I hope everyone had a lovely Easter weekend. Mine was exhausting! SO much social activity after weeks, months, a year of not much going on.

I was busy on Friday getting ready for Saturday.

Mimosas are a good start to any party.

Liz got emotional opening daughter #1’s handmade baby blankets. After a yummy lunch (chicken salad, of course) we sat outside in the sun and watched the wee babes frolic on the driveway. After her husband picked Liz up and daughter #3 went home with the babes, we went to pick up margaritas at Club Taco. We finished Ben Hur, which we had started the night before.

On Easter morning we got up early and went to the 8:00 am service at an actual church. It felt great to sit in a pew again and sing hymns. God-honoring worship with the Word of God faithfully preached and the Lord’s Supper celebrated was much appreciated. It will take awhile to get used to not kneeling and to drinking grape juice at communion, but I think I can manage.

When we got home, I made Episcopal Souffle (ironic, yes) and then the boy and his family came over. The babes opened their Easter baskets.

Daughter #1 gave the wee laddie a book on Porsches (estate sale find), which he opened to squeals of joy. He carried it around for the rest of the day.

Note the book in back of the Cooper (ingenious)

We had a super fun egg hunt.

Once again we sat on the driveway in the glorious sun and watched the world bicycle/drive/stroll by. Two days of beautiful spring weather and a little social interaction can do wonders for one’s spirits.

And now it’s Monday. What the…

“Make no mistake: if he rose at all
It was as His body;
If the cell’s dissolution did not reverse, the molecule reknit,
The amino acids rekindle,
The Church will fall.

It was not as the flowers,
Each soft spring recurrent;
It was not as His Spirit in the mouths and fuddled eyes of the
Eleven apostles;
It was as His flesh; ours.

The same hinged thumbs and toes
The same valved heart
That—pierced—died, withered, paused, and then regathered
Out of enduring Might
New strength to enclose.

Let us not mock God with metaphor,
Analogy, sidestepping, transcendence,
Making of the event a parable, a sign painted in the faded
Credulity of earlier ages:
Let us walk through the door.”

— from John Updike’s Seven Stanzas at Easter