Easter 2011

Holidays often emphasize our dual-coast hearts. Special days that are filled with traditions and memories can make our faraway family feel— well, extra faraway.  More than ever before, this Easter felt like home.  The four of us together was just enough— actually, more than enough, it felt like a feast.

We took our annual picture in front of the flower cross at church.  It was our sixth time snapping that photo. The first time Ben was just nestling into his mommy’s womb with a proud pastor papa holding Leah tight.  Four photos ago, Clara was about to make her surprise early appearance just days after that Easter snapshot featuring a giggling, bald Ben and big, big belly (Leah’s— not Mark’s) was taken.  It was the third time Clara was in our arms and we still felt that moment of exhilaration and wonder realizing that this little girl belongs to us (that's what you get when you convince yourself you are having boy #2 for almost nine months).

Clara adored her pale pink Easter outfit, as soon as that tulle hit her body she said, “I’m a princess today!”  She also set a new Clara record by keeping the bow in her hair all morning. Ben’s ensemble however, reminded us of our dual-coast lifestyle.  First, he is growing his hair long as he explained; “I’d like to try out being a hippie for a little while.”  Then, he wanted to wear his converse sneakers and a tie.  We buttoned-up his “daddy shirt,” put on some freshly pressed khakis, the ever-important argyle socks and the boy was looking California cool.  That is until Leah dropped him off in the kids’ choir room for pre-service practice.  When Ben arrived in the sanctuary ten minutes later someone had taken it upon himself or herself (okay, it’s safe to say herself) to tuck-in Ben’s shirt.  Oops.  By the time church was over, the shirttails were out and Ben looked like himself again.  You can take the boy out of California, but you can’t take the California out of the boy.

The services at church were filled with gorgeous music, meaningful liturgy and thoughtful preaching.  Mark’s sermon spoke of our quest to find “home” and how we spend so much time and energy searching for that place of comfort, security, love and hope.  The power of the resurrection comes in the promise of an eternal home—the healing of bodies, souls, relationships, families…and looking around at our church family in the sanctuary, we knew many of the stories, sharing in the quests that are taking place in search of that peace, comfort and assurance. As we sang, we felt close to our faraway friends and family who join in this holy quest too.

We followed Sunday naptime (or for Leah, frosting cake time) with a hike at Baker’s Mountain, a favorite spot close to home.  Welcoming the beauty of another North Carolina spring, walking along a trail we know well, looking at the long limbs of our growing children, happy and content (even when the “Mommy, my legs are tired,” litany began) and we felt that peaceful feeling of being right where we need to be. 

Following on the success of last year’s experiment, we set the dinner table with our wedding china and enjoyed a “civilized” meal (that is, if we ignore Clara merrily heaving her full wedge of cake with both hands into her mouth).  It was a moment where we realized a “home” we had long ago imagined when we stood in Macy’s with a wedding scanner choosing just the right china and crystal had arrived.  We were a family sharing a special meal on a special day, a day celebrating what Ben so sweetly said, “I love Jesus.  I love that he died on the cross and that means we all get to be together in heaven, forever.”   It was a day celebrating all of our homes— family and friends on both coasts, all the church families we have been blessed to serve, our little brick haven here, the beauty of God’s creation whether it be the Blue Ridge Mountains or Summerland Beach and the eternal home that awaits us, where we can all be home together, forever.

Easter Sunday also happened to be Grandma Watson's birthday.  The kids sang and blew out twelve candles, even though Ben pointed out, "Grandma Watson is a lot older than twelve!"  Happy Birthday Grandma Watson!