Here's more of the story of yesterday. My not being able to sleep because of thinking of everything I had to do is followed by frustration at not being able to find the cheese grater. I need to bake two quiche but I need the cheese grater to prepare them. So I stick in the oven some sort of root vegetable pie Ern picked up on sale. Then I find the cheese grater.
I pray for grace, that I'll keep my focus on what's truly important, this day of all days. But I've got small children to help get ready for church. I've still got turkey salad sandwiches to put together. I've got oranges to slice. There may be visitors who don't bring food and I should bring extra for them.

The quiche turns out beautifully.

At the breakfast, I run around, trying to keep track of all my chicks and being a bit of a mother hen to all present, though not really accomplishing much, as I'm trying to make sure to greet visitors, compliment special dishes, get everybody upstairs in time for the morning service.

Lethei, Lici, and Liam all fight with each other during the song service and I belt out "He Lives," a little louder, hoping they'll be convicted of not thinking about Jesus's resurrection when we're all singing about it.
In junior church, a boy narrows his eyes at me. The curriculum does seem somewhat trivial. A TV show format?
So I open the very old children's Bible story book and we look at the beautiful illlustrations and read the Easter story. I relate the sacrifice, the miracle. They are riveted, vying for a closer spot. Some how the meaning of the this day is not lost after all. God is in it. He is alive.