Resurrection Sunday, 08 April 2012

Today, my kitchen smells like Easter.  The heady fragrance of a single pink jasmine stem in a vase, plus the watery smell of shelled, hard-boiled eggs are scents of Easter to me.  Growing up, Mom and Dad usually referred to Easter Sunday as "Resurrection Sunday."  The sun was virtually always shining that day, and the yard was perfumed with lilac, sweet pea, and pink jasmine.  After church and a family meal during the first half of the day, in the afternoon we'd hunt hand-decorated eggs and sit on the lawn to eat them, accompanying our simple picnic with a selection of homemade once-a-year cookies.

As a mom myself now, I've carried on some of those traditions.  We decorated eggs last night; we dressed up for church this morning; we had a big family lunch around my table; and we hunted eggs this afternoon.  (G and Z only wanted to do two rounds of hiding because they were so excited to shell the eggs and dig in!)

There were some new elements today, too.  Today was my ADORABLE nephew's first Easter, and he's just learning to zero-in on people's faces, so Auntie Rachel spent a good deal of time staring and making goo-goo noises at him.  This is the first year the boys have hunted eggs in the backyard of our new house, so Jay and I had fun discovering good hiding places.

Today has been a very special day.  But it's a sad day for me, too.  Two years ago on this date, my Mom had her own resurrection--the resurrection of her spirit to be with Jesus.  But that day was not a celebration for us, as we wept in the hospital corridors and clung to each other in grief.  And you know what?  I miss Mom.  Today I wondered what she would think of the solo I sang in church, and if she would have liked the way I roasted the chicken.  I wanted to hear her beckon one of my kids with an excited voice, helping them find a hiding egg.  She would have rolled her eyes at Jay's puns and cleared her throat with mock nervousness listening to my brother's harrowing work stories.  And oh, wouldn't she have loved cooing at her newest grandson, tickling him and making clicking noises with her tongue.

Today we are missing Jay's mom, too.  This is our first Easter since she walked into Jesus' arms.  Last year, she delightedly ate the meal I prepared and giggled with glee watching the little boys wander through the yard finding their eggs.  It's inconceivable to me, really, that she wasn't here this year.  She would have been here.  She should have been here.

So here is a whole Easter basket-full of feelings--joy, sadness, thankfulness, hope, grief, confusion, delight, satisfaction, and I'm sure many others that haven't been named.  But tonight, as I enjoy the perfume of my pink jasmine stem, I think I'm going to end this day looking at Hope:  Jesus has conquered death, He is alive, He has given me a life worth living, and I am going to see Him when it's my turn for a resurrection.

He is risen!  He is risen indeed.