Happy Easter!

A word about Easter Sunday.

I invited half the ward over for dinner the Thursday before Easter. Due to the busy weekend, only a few of our friends were able to come. Which worked out perfectly because: a) what was I thinking?, b) I had papers to grade that I didn’t even look at all weekend, c) I’ve never made Easter dinner before, d) what was I thinking?

In classic me fashion, I attempted three mismatched recipes that I'd never tried before, which is dumb, but oh well, it works for me: spinach and berry salad with pomegranate dressing; creamy mushroom soup; pork chops with caramelized apples and onions. And our marvelous friends brought potato salad, green beans, strawberry napoleons (with diplomat cream!), raspberry turnovers, birds’ nests, and Cadbury Eggs.

We all ate too much and had to sit at the table playing Wits and Wagers until we could move again. This is a game in which the answer to every question is a number, and you score points by betting on what you think the closest answers are without going over the real numbers.  The questions ask about incredibly useful information that everyone should know, but for some reason doesn’t. For example:

In years, how old was the oldest woman in recorded medical history? 

In degrees Fahrenheit, what is the lowest temperature ever recorded in Hawaii? 

How many pairs of shoes were found in Imelda Marcos’ closet after she fled the Philippines in 1986? 

It was seriously so fun! 

Our dinner party.

While rearranging our furniture to accommodate three tables, we found this little green man taking a lint bath under our couch. He ate all our Easter candy and made too many messes, so we had to take him home to his dad.

Lucas is four. He missed his little green man and was glad to have him back.

But I admit, I missed the point of the whole day. I'm really good at that. I worried about how the pork chops looked after cooking in the oven all day—they looked like they’d been soaking in the rain for months instead of golden brown like in the pictures on the recipe blog—more than I thought about Easter Sunday ten years ago. That was the first Sunday I went to an LDS sacrament meeting service. I heard my high school guidance counselor, then the branch president, talk about the atonement and wondered why tears shone in his eyes as he spoke.

Now I know. Those were tears of gratitude for our Savior’s incomprehensible sacrifice in Gethsemane. Tears of relief at knowing that, after the atonement, there is no pain we cannot bear. Tears of joy for a divine plan that makes us infinite.

I didn’t think about this as much on Easter. But I’ve been thinking about it since.  

Better late, than never?