It's Easter Sunday, which usually means by the time eleven o'clock rolls around, I've sung three church services and am about to sing the fourth. Not this year. With my mother in the hospital, we didn't do the usual crazy Easter morning thing, Church, church, church, Sunday School, church and then an exhausted lunch with my choir and family. It's not everyone's idea of how to celebrate Easter, but it's most definitely mine. God is music, and after forty years of choir membership, church isn't church without singing in the choir.
Once the kids were too old to hunt Eater eggs, our Easter mornings grew much more simple, if four services is your idea of fun. We join the choir for lunch because of our blended family situation. Most Easter weekends, our kids were gone to their other parents. Now that they are grown, we lack firm Easter traditions, a cost of being a blended family.
But this year, I got up before everyone else, went out to check to see what flowers are blooming, and found lots of new irises. Then, I came back in and did half an hour of yoga. This Easter, as nice as my usual tradition is, I'm serene, relaxed and fulfilled. I had my own quiet meditation time and celebrated my own way. Now I'm off to make French toast, bacon, hash browns and tomatoes for brunch.
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