Easter Sweets

It was sad that I didn’t realize that the boys’ white Easter shirts were too small until 8:00 p.m. on Holy Saturday. Still, it was very sweet that my husband grabbed his car keys and was willing to run right out to Kohl’s for me.

It was sad that my husband accidentally brought home a short-sleeved dress shirt (he was certain it’d been long-sleeved) but very sweet that he nonetheless laughed at my joke about my son now needing a pocket protector.

It was sad—very sad—that Felicity woke up with a queasy tummy on Easter morning and wasn’t even up to the task of looking for chocolate Easter eggs. Still, it was very sweet the way that her older siblings kept bringing her some of their eggs.

It was sad that Felicity had to stay home from Mass on Easter Sunday, but very sweet that my friend said, “Bring her over for Easter brunch anyway! She can rest on my bed.”

(The queasy tummy had gone away by then. Felicity was ecstatic to be included.)

It was sad that I didn’t take a single photo on Easter Sunday. I brought my camera to Mass even, but rushed out the door without grabbing the memory card. Still, it is sweet—or rather, reassuring—that Easter is a season and I have still have time to take lots of photos. Heck, we haven’t even colored our Easter eggs yet!

It was sad—very, very sad—to hear about the death of a fellow parishioner’s mother on Holy Thursday. (I have blogged about this acquaintance before—he is my holy hour go-to guy and had been caring for his mother for years.) Still, it was very sweet when my friend offered to watch all my children so that I could go the funeral on Monday morning.

(I have more to say about this funeral but will save it for another post. It was a hard one.)

And so it goes. Easter is indeed a season—a beautiful season of hope and redemption, and of optimism despite the set-backs.

Oh, and let’s not forget those Easter sweets.

It is a season of lots and lots of sweets.

All for the greater glory of God,