Happy Easter…or something

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Last Easter, I didn’t manage to get a single photo of my children. Well, I did a little better this time, but not much. For some reason, I’m always too exhausted when it comes down to it. Add in cloudy skies and a cranky baby, and there weren’t many photo opportunities. But there was family, and there were friends, and there was pie, and He is risen…

I’m on a plane by now, headed to the East Coast, back to my hometown where some things stay the same and others change, not always for the better. I’m comforted to know that, good or bad, there is love. And there is love waiting for me at home in Seattle that I can’t wait to get back to. My husband will have his latest blood draw and CT results before my plane touches down again in the West. I’m praying hard to keep anxiety at bay. One day at a time, moment by grace-filled moment.

I don’t know if this post has any purpose, except perhaps to say that it’s okay. If the holiday…or even the every day…leaves you worn rather than filled. You don’t need picture-perfect memories. The sassy or tear-filled ones can be just as precious. In them, we find the chance to love deeper, to hope harder, to trust bigger. I think, after all, that’s what Easter is all about.

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