Easter Week Musings

I hope you all had an enjoyable weekend regardless of whether you may have been celebrating Easter, Passover, Ramadan, or just a Spring weekend. Here are some thoughts as I look back on my Easter week.

Our 13 year old daughter assisted at our church’s Palm Sunday service as an acolyte to kick-off Easter Week. She left the house in very ripped (shredded?) jeans, bare midriff top, and her brother’s old McDonald’s work shirt, currently seemingly one of her favorite shirts. Are we bad parents for not monitoring her attire? We didn’t think so. Normally, acolytes wear a robe. Well, not on Palm Sunday. She was a walking advertisement for a Big Mac up on the altar. Would you like fries with your faith? Maybe it was just a coincidence, but after Palm Sunday, our church sent an email with very clear dress code instructions for Good Friday services that our daughter was also assisting in.


And speaking of ripped jeans, my daughter wears them because she can. I wear ripped jeans because my jeans ripped a little bit.


I saw this video on Twitter over the Easter weekend.

Gross. So entitled. Where is Bluto Blutarsky when you need him?


I think Christianity caught a huge lucky break when Jesus’s family and friends decided on burial rather than cremation.


Our church offers a 6:15AM Easter sunrise service in the cemetery. It’s pretty cool. The last time I went pre-COVID, an eagle circled over the service, although I do not think that was a planned part of the service. I was awake at 5:30AM this Easter. I could have made it. I chose more sleep and going to the 8:30AM service with the family. It was the correct choice to make. I enjoyed being with them more than being circled as potential prey by an eagle.


Our Associate Pastor is an openly gay woman. She gave the talk to the children during the Easter service. As the kids gathered around her, it warmed my heart to know that nobody in attendance was worried that she was grooming the kids to turn gay as many conservative Christians believe. I’m not a very religious person, and sometimes it’s hard to get me to go to services, but I’m loving our church.


We spent Easter Sunday afternoon with family (25+ people and kids), and it was a lovely time. Yes, my 11 year old grandniece put me on the spot and did ask me if I had ever sharted. I was shocked. I prefer the term pooted over sharted. I consider pooted to be a bit more genteel. At least she asked before the meal was served. Thankfully, I never had to answer as she followed up her question by telling me about the time she pooted and then that she’s in love with Tom Holland, but I think that’s because she’s assuming he’s never pooted or would understand her inadvertent poot.


At what we officially called our Easter family gathering, we had Christians, Jews, atheists, and agnostics all gathered together to celebrate how we can all rise, not just on Easter Sunday, but every day, and be a new and better person that day and beyond … especially if you’re as dreamy as Tom Holland but probably not if you’re a frequent pooter.

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