It seems I can get so busy living this beautiful, magical life, that I run out of time to write about it.
And so . . . the days get away from me.
And I find myself writing about holidays, like Easter, days after they have melted into sweet memories.
Actually, I have some pics from the tennis match last week, too. This year, the weather for tennis was gorgeous, if a bit windy. But it was warm and sunny. The kinds of days you don't mind being outside for hours.
All our kids did great! Isaac and his doubles partner, Colton, won a silver medal after playing a two hour championship game. Their competitors were very nice young men, who played hard as well and exhibited great sportsmanship. It was so much fun to watch Isaac play! He is . . . let's all say it together . . . Getting. So. Big!
Grandpa made his famous Italian wedding cookies. Seriously. These things are dangerous to me. And I am dangerous to them. Look at these little buttons of sheer sugary happiness. I could eat them all day!
I was excited but wary when my cousin suggested that this year we try to make some of the Easter foods that live in our memories. After all, these were things that were created in the kitchens of amazing home cooks who could cook rings around these new fangled t.v. superstar chefs any day! I always pictured them working away in steamy kitchens, aprons caked with errant ingredients, noses floured, hair swept up atop their sweat-moistened brows. Surely they were in there without seeing the light of day for hours . . . days maybe, to produce the fine delicacies they so generously shared with us.
My grandpa talked to his cousin, Tri, at length about the recipes, and wrote and rewrote the instructions.
I was surprised at how easy it all was.
A little of this, a little of that, a little time to bake . . . and we had some amazing results. Tasty pies that hit the nail of memory right on the taste buds!
It was fun to share the pies with friends and family who joined us for Easter dinner.
Saturday was a busy day. The older boys got to play at a friend's house, and mom and I went shopping with Danny.
After dinner, we dyed eggs. I love Daniel at this age, because he is old enough to understand what we are doing, and young enough to be astounded by the wonder of every new thing!
The boys got their baskets when we all woke up. Nothing big and fancy, just little things . . . candy, of course, and other things like bubbles and first aid kits and word search or coloring books, and crayons or highlighters and baseball cards and little Marvel Comic towels all bunched up in a tiny square that will spring to their full size when soaked in water. Just fun. Stuff.
My boys looked sharp in their Easter duds.Can you say "Blue's Brothers"?
And later, when I was falling into bed, tired and happy, my only regret was that I didn't get a chance to write about it.
"What's the good of writing about Easter several days after it already over?" I whined to myself when I began this post.
And then I thought . . . Is Easter ever really over?
I mean, the new life of this tender season, the new life that grows in our hearts through the work of Christ -- that new life, just as Spring comes year after year, blooming us out of our winter seasons, comes to us over and over again as we change and grow and blossom and stretch toward Heaven. It comes everyday, in big and small ways. In things seen and not seen. Easter blooms eternal because He who was crushed for us to live a life of triumph, joy, purpose and peace, rose again. Rose. Again.
For those who believe Jesus is God's son, that he loves us so much he gave his life for ours, and that he rose from the dead so we can live forever, everyday is Easter . . . a celebration of joy and hope and life.
A remembering of what He did for me. . . for everyone.
What He does for us . . . everyday.