When the Bishop repeated that there were 50 days of Easter during Easter Vigil, we took heart and took the message to heart. At the time, we weren’t sure what our Easter celebration would entail as Philip had dragged himself to the Vigil and Max seemed to be fading fast. 


We reminded ourselves of the Bishop’s words when we didn’t have Jello eggs or cascaron├ęs made and an egg hunt didn’t take place.

Our kids didn’t hunt for eggs on Easter this year. 


But you know what? We didn’t die, no one cried about it (except me, of course) and we are still in those 50 days so you never know what can happen! 

It’s a little thrilling to think about springing the eventual hunt on them. . . 


Baskets were enjoyed and ham was eaten even if we didn’t get pictures to prove it. The meal was rather slap dash actually but Mama Syd and Papa Chris made it happen and didn’t complain about the less than Martha quality table. We were together, we feasted and remembered the reason for our celebration. It was hard for me to let go of expectations but once I did, I sure was happier.

Max and Phil spent most of the day in bed. We moved slow and rocked the babe and enjoyed jelly beans. And serrated well in the Alleluia and truth of a Savior risen, making us an Easter people all through the year.