As I’m sure so many of you experienced this weekend, to me, the truth of Easter has never felt so immediate, so needed, so poignant, so prominent as it did this year. In the midst of such pain, it’s clear that this world is not as it should be. What a beautiful and welcome message that the worst thing is never the last thing – and that hope is the very surest thing. Stripped of much of the dressing, removed from our church home, and without even the usual space to contemplate (hello, small children!), this weekend didn’t feel as “set apart” as holy occasions often do – but, God still made his truth known. While this Easter will always be remembered as unlike any other, in many ways, it looked like so many Easters we’ve experienced together, especially living so far from our families. I thought I’d share a little peek, if you’d like to see! On Saturday morning, I did our usual grocery run, this time with mask in place. Had to document this very surreal, now semi-normal, occurrence. Then we headed out for a family bike ride – we’ve done one for the last few Saturday mornings, now that the weather is warmer, which has been glorious! After naps and quiet time, the boys planted a last bush in our back bed (lantana! come on, butterflies!) and the girls painted wooden eggs. Then, we headed to a woodsy path in our neighborhood to cut down a branch for our Easter tree. We ended up cutting down a rather large branch (it was quite a production carrying it back), but it certainly made a splash on our table. Here it is in action on Easter morning, pre-eggs being hung! After the baskets were unpacked and enjoyed (the watercolor