My Windows Are Shiny

And so comes another holiday not at Grandma or Aunt Patty's house. I don't know who this bothers more... me or my girl. Just when I think I'm settled where I'm at, another pesky holiday dinner rolls around. Just when I think I can do this, my girl sighs that heavy sigh and says Wouldn't you trade everybody for Granny and Pa, or to eat at Aunt Patty's, or to talk to Grandma one more time?

That girl is just like her mama.

This is not a day for depressing thoughts, though, for this is the day Christ arose. I was thinking about a little Catholic church not far from our house. Friday night we were on our way to dinner with some friends when we passed a production (I guess that's what you'd call it) out in their field right by the main road. Roman soldiers in all their centurion glory, Pilate sitting high on a platform, three lonely crosses in the distance. The sight made a vehicle full of laughing adults silent for a brief moment in time. Yesterday I noticed everything had been cleared from the field except for a lone tomb set off in a far corner. A large, round stone covered the front. I know without looking that stone has been rolled away this morning.

So this definitely cannot be a depressing day.

Yesterday I cleaned and cleaned and cleaned some more. I could have stopped with my usual housecleaning (you know, the dust/sweep/vacuum run-through), but I thought of my grandma and what she would have me do. She would want me to have my house sparkling for my husband's family; not in a perfection type of thing, but a make-him-proud type of thing. Why is it I always think of her when I wash my windows? I could hear her in the back of my mind, You really need to wash those blinds, too.

I know this, Grandma, but I don't have the time.

Then I sat out little glass dishes (my mom loves anything glass) full of jelly beans in the living room and back screened-in porch (Aunt Patty loves all those little touches). I fixed up my cute, little Sprite and Coke bottles in a bowl (again for Aunt Patty) and scattered pastel, plastic eggs filled with candy and quarters throughout the house (just because I thought it was cute). By the time nine o'clock rolled around and my husband offered to shred the bar-be-que pork (thank God for little miracles), I collapsed in the recliner with my aching feet up (just like my mom).

Was it all worth it?

I think so. Even if everybody bailed (little miracles again?) and nobody showed up for dinner, my house is clean, we've got food we love waiting in the fridge, and my daughter amazed herself and us with the cutest bunny cake. All in all, I think we've had a pretty good weekend already. I still have one more paper to write that hovers over me like a dark cloud, but I'll knock that out easy enough later this evening. The birds are singing outside and the cat has already taken care of his daily yak (ohhhh, that cat). And did I mention the tomb is empty?

My grandma would want me to be nice today.
My mom would insist upon it.
And Aunt Patty would talk about it all later.

It's almost like they're all here anyway.

Happy Resurrection Sunday!