Easter

Well, I’ll save you the suspense: it was a great Easter.
We made our usual pilgrimage down to Cupertino to spend the day with Grandma and Grandpa. It starts with the drive to church, and our family tradition to stop at the Krispy Kreme on the way down for a fresh from the glaze waterfall donut. I don’t even really LIKE donuts, but a warm, melt in your mouth Krispy Kreme donut is not really a donut – it’s like a puddle of sugary sunshine. And who doesn’t like sugary sunshine? Anyway, it was Easter, and with all the candy we knew was coming, we didn’t really need to stop for a donut. But we DID! Are you kidding me? Of course we did!!! Yum.

Then, we got to church – EARLY. I don’t think this has ever happened in the history of time. Not before Brendan, not after Brendan. We also arrived with all of our Easter clothing, even though we knew that it would also be totally alright to arrive without all of our Easter clothing. I snapped a few photos while Daddy put on the tie and the jacket – just in case they somehow didn’t survive the service. And then Grandma and Grandpa arrived.

Brendan went up for the children’s sermon (with daddy), and then when the other kids filed out, he filed out too (with daddy). I stayed in the service with Mom and Dad – as I did every Sunday for the first 25 or so years of my life. I looked around at the decorations that my parents had lovingly arranged the day before, and remembered all the Easter Sundays we woke up long before the sun rose to come to church and put fresh calla lilies on the cross. I remembered how exciting it was to get dash back home and then quickly get dressed in my new Easter outfit that Mom had made for me. For many years, my Grandma was there visiting – the two of us would have bear claws for breakfast together since my Mom and Dad always had many extra duties at church that day. Sometimes Grandma would let me borrow one of her pretty beaded purses to carry to church in my little white gloved hands. Almost every year, Dad was the elder and said the prayer. This year was no exception – though this year he also did the announcements and playfully made fun of the “knit wit” knitting group. Mom always sang in the choir, and usually they did a special program for Easter. This year, our small church had no choir, but I still got to hear Mom’s beautiful voice. I got to sit next to her, though, rather than looking at her in the choir loft. We got to exchange knowing looks when the minister talked about parenting showing him a love he never knew before – and after communion, Mom put her arm out, and I slid right into her hug – just as I have done my whole life. She put her warm hand around my cold one. And it was comforting both as a daughter, and now as a parent to be reminded that Mom’s arms are always Mom’s arms. And that they will always bring a feeling of comfort and home and love like no other place in the world.

Then church was over and I went out to find the boys. We didn’t use to do an egg hunt after church on Sunday – we usually had them the Saturday before Easter. But Brendan was delighted once again to find eggs with all the other kids. He got a scraped knee, but a piece of cake made him feel much better.

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We got home and played with toys and wondered if the Easter Bunny had been able to get here since it had been rainy most of the day. Good news: HE CAME.

There was egg hunting, basket looking – and then Brendan reminded Grandma that they needed to pick a lemon. She also showed him the jungle that she had grown just for him. He went exploring and came out with flowers for everyone. Including poor Chelsea who we left home for the day. While the ham cooked, Brendan and I went exploring in the neighborhood. It was a perfectly crisp day – the kind I used to love as a kid, and still do. The kind made for adventures. I took him to one of my secret spots – a steep dirt hill that leads up to a spot that overlooks the creek, and high above the creek, the freeway. I told him how I used to come here sometimes when I was a little girl. I showed him how when we’re driving if we look just at the right moment, we can see Grandma and Grandpa’s house. We went back down the hill very slowly, holding hands so neither of us would fall. I showed him where I used to pop the tar bubbles that would appear in the middle of the very hottest days of summer. We raced down the street where my dad taught me how to ride a bike.

The days always go so fast – we ate our dinner, and our ice cream which I reminded Grandma was not the tradition before she had a Grandson who loved ice cream as much as she does… and then it was time to get our napless little boy into his pj’s and on the road. Armed with several glowing wands and necklaces from Grandma, he was asleep within 4 freeway exits. The moon was extra big and extra bright and Rob and I chatted all the way home about things not vital enough to make the cut during a normal day. We had a successful Peanut transfer into his own bed, and then Chelsea almost woke him up because she couldn’t relax until she saw that he was really home too.

I’m so thankful that Grandma seemed to have more energy to enjoy the day – even though I know she and Grandpa had pushed themselves past any reasonable limits to make it a special day for everyone. I’m so thankful for traditions, and for church family that welcomes us with open arms. I’m thankful for a husband who not only fits right in to all of it, but who helps create new traditions for our family. And I’m so thankful for Brendan who in so many ways is my personal Easter – the proof of my resurrection from cancer and all that I thought it took from me. He’s also sort of my favorite marshmallow filled treat. And everything else that’s good about Easter.