On my way to church this morning, I remembered all those other Easters. The last 20 or so all went about the same way. I can hear him saying to a daughter on the telephone, “Why don’t you bring a fruit salad?” And to another daughter, “Why don’t you bring scalloped potatoes?” And to yet another daughter, “Why don’t you bring a pie – apple would be nice.” And to another, “Why don’t you bring a vegetable? Asparagus would be good.”
And like every Easter before, he had single-handedly delegated his favorite menu out to the entire family. Except for the ham. He was always in charge of the ham. We all knew what was happening. And we all knew that there was no use trying to argue with him. It was tradition. Used to drive me crazy. What I wouldn’t give for one more Easter Dinner, his way. What I wouldn’t give to see that silly smile of his, as he boasted over his “homemade” ham. What I wouldn’t give to hear him say grace at the dinner table, the strength of his convictions bolstering my own faith.
Dozens of ham dinners; dozens of Easter Sunday services. And the message, repeated each year, always left me pondering the mystery of that resurrection. After hearing the message dozens of times, am I convinced? Yes, I think so. Pastor put it well: faith and doubt are woven together as one. Faith is not knowledge.
So this Easter, I miss my husband but thank God for the time we had together. My faith comforts me today and my faith will continue to grow. For that, I am so thankful.
To my children: Don’t be afraid to question, to wonder, to ponder, to believe…