I figure the title is still relevant being we are technically still in the Easter season. We have been adhering to the mandate of celebrating the last few weeks, leaving me a bit exhausted along with looking more 30 weeks instead of 19. In the past I have been a strict no caffeine person while pregnant and nursing, not even a drop. Not sure if it’s my advanced maternal age, chasing around four other children or the lack of sleep that has driven me to enjoy cups of the fully dieseled kind.
Well we made it, hosted two major celebrations both of 30 people or more all within a two week time frame and came out free of any major meltdowns on my part. What I learned, hosting makes you keep your house clean and beyond. Cleaning out of the normal routine; washing the outside of windows, scrubbing down outside doors, washing the walls and no matter how hard I try my patio door will always have little hand smudges on it.
In addition to Easter, this past weekend Ethan made his First Holy Communion. He was sooo excited and kept saying, “this is the best day of my life!” With all the rush of preparing for the weekend I hadn’t taken a lot of time just to reflect on his day not to mention Mass always being a circus in our pew, so I was taken a bit off guard by my emotions. I was surprised when I found my eyes filling up with tears of joy as I watched him receive Jesus for the first time. In that moment all seemed to stand still there was a beautiful period of silence in our pew and I was able to just close my eyes and bow my head as I prayed for my son.
The psalm from today’s readings spoke poignantly to my heart as I reflected on the words.
Shout joyfully to God, all the earth,Psalm 66: 2-3
sing praise to the glory of his name;
proclaim his glorious praise.
Say to God, “How tremendous are your deeds!”
As I reflect on the past few weeks, months and years how can I not say how tremendous are His deeds, how can my very being refrain from shouting joyfully. The weekend after Easter I happened to run into a priest who once served at our parish. He knew Aaron and I prior to children and asked how my family was doing. My mind quickly raced back to Holy Saturday Vigil eight years ago. I had just found out I was miscarrying for the third time and I remember the exact pew we were sitting in.
During the homily the priest talked about how in our lives after every Good Friday there is an Easter Sunday, although we may not always see the Easter Sunday in our lifetime. I sat there holding Aaron’s hand so tightly as tears ran down my face. As my heart questioned when I would ever see Easter Sunday, when would I experience the joy. All I know is Good Friday as once again another baby is taken from me. Will there ever be an Easter Sunday in my life to follow all of this pain?
There I stood now years later telling him we were preparing to welcome our fifth child. I had to recount bodies in my house as five children sounds unthinkable to me. This, this is my Easter Sunday.