Yet, when I think about this weekend, there was much to celebrate too. I did a lot of cleaning on Friday, and we had a family outing to the park to do the city Easter egg hunt before Sabbath School, and there was a massive pile in the bed while reading Bible stories, and we did do an egg hunt and a basket. Most importantly Boyo seemed to enjoy that. It’s okay that his breakfast was a yogurt instead of bunny pancakes and lunch was vegetables and couscous rather than Sunday Easter dinner. It’s all right that my house isn’t perfectly clean, cause we made memories today and that’s what counts.
Tea in a Bungalow
Amongst the messy disarray of every day life in a year that feels so strange to me I have lost words, or maybe I have lost the willingness to utter them, or maybe it is some mixture of both. I do not wish to speak when silence would be better, yet I do not wish by my silence to give strength to hatred and disdain. I want to speak love and kindness and healing. I want to help those who are feeling otherwise dis-empowered. I don’t know how to do this always. I’m not certain tonight that I know how to do it at all. I feel small and unimportant, like a dot on the margins in the mess of daily life.