And so I did. Colorfully, vibrantly, emotionally, passionately, and deliciously. I celebrated my risen Savior with friends and my husband and my tender-hearted four year old. I celebrated with casacarones and egg-dying and a loaded basket of goodies. I celebrated with communion and singing and tears over a play where I watched my Jesus being put to death on that cross for me. I celebrated and I won't ever forget an Easter like that.
Only the highlights of such a weekend.....
Dyeing eggs with friends.
Little hands at work, creating both messes and beauty.
The aftermath of a fun time with friends.
My bestest friend in the entire world. She knows my heart like no one else and I love her so.
The drama our church put on portraying the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. And the precious moment I shared with my son as he cried watching Jesus hurt and bleed for us.
My inability to capture both of my boys in any satisfactory picture. It's beautifully impossible because I have boys.
Also, a baby in a tie. I can't stand it.
A very loaded basket.
Remembering Jesus. Breaking bread and taking the cup with my family before Easter dinner.
My Easter table setting. Real napkins and scriptures and nail-made crosses to remind us of His sacrifice.
Our annual family Easter picture minus Jacob.
As my family drove away and I headed back inside to wash dishes and put away all the goods from all of the festivities, my eyes fell to the ground as I beheld the confetti and cracked eggshells. Remnants of laughter and celebrating there on the front steps to my home. And I didn't even mind as we tracked it into the house and it was all over my living room floor, still falling from my hair and inside of my clothes. I wanted to keep all of the celebrating and rejoicing with me and remember it.
May it always be a reminder of what God continues to bring alive in my heart and how I so desire to leave some color and sparkle and pieces of joy wherever I go because of Him.