Relationships: the stuff of life...

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The longer I live, the more I’m convinced that life is essentially comprised of love. No, this is not another blog post in which I wax poetic about love and its immeasurable grandeur. Well, not exactly. This is a blog post about love in its more practical, measurable form: relationships. When on is young, relationships are often simply a given, a tacit part of day to day life. When one gets a little older - when one has developed existing relationships, established new ones, and experienced the ending of old ones - the importance of relationships in life begins to become more apparent.

Science tells us that our world is comprised of atoms, various sub-atomic particles (neutrons, protons, electrons), quarks, and possibly even strings (the jury is still out on this last one). Certain evolutionary theories tell us that all life is directed towards the goal of survival and procreation. Economists will tell us that it is money that makes the world go round. From a particular, narrow perspective these may all be true to varying extents; but at the ground level of everyday life, it seems to me, relationships are building blocks of our lives, the direction towards which we all strive, and (simultaneously) both the impetus and consummation of our hopes and dreams. Relationships are that which give us meaning and purpose. I believe this is a reality that we (in our modern, individualistic society) often forget, neglect, and even at times abuse. It is something of which that we need to constantly remind ourselves.

Recently I was listening to an interview with Jeremy Rifken regarding his new book, The Empathic Civilization. It was a very interesting conversation in which he was explaining his approach to history from the perspective of human empathy (particularly its historical link with technological advancement in the areas of energy and communication). In defending his interpretation of humanity from the perspective of empathy he provides what he calls the “deathbed test”:

He argues, “If we really want to know what human nature is about, the best way is to start from the end and go back to the beginning – that is, on the deathbed, nobody looks back on their life and says, ‘jee, the moments that counted is when I felt I was an island to myself, I pursued my self interest, I collected some more wealth, I was able to be calculating, rational, detached, or I had a special moment where I received pleasure over pain, or I felt very good about my utilitarian desires or extinguishing my sexual libido; that’s not it. When we’re old and look back, the actual moments that count, are the moments where we were able to transcend ourselves and actually connect with another, another human or another being , in an emphathic way; so that we could feel that beyond ourselves we are part of the mystery of life, and that we are actually engaged in another’s struggle to be and flourish. Those are the moments that we look back on. Those are the moments that are etched in our memory. That’s amazing.”

Yes, it is indeed an amazing thing.

Even on a day-to-day basis, I find that it is the relationships that give value to our lives. The simply laughs with co-workers, the struggles and hardships shared with friends and family, playing with nieces or nephews, having coffee and conversation with an acquaintance, hearing peoples stories, telling people your story, even the comical interactions with strangers – these are what fill our days, these are what give substance to our hours. Every day, my dear wife and I give each other a recap of our day. I enjoy to go for walks and watch the clouds up in the sky; I enjoy reading and studying and learning; I even enjoy preparing dinner and listening to the radio before my wife gets home from work - I truly enjoy these actions of my day. But near the completion of each day, I find that these actions and experiences are made richer by sharing them with my wife as I tell her what I learned and what I did that day. A sunset is good and beautiful, but it is even more beautiful when watched with good company. A book is even richer when discussed with a friend. Life would be dull and, well, lifeless without others to share it with.

This is the Christian confession. Within the shared life of the Trinitarian God whom we worship, we find that relationships (communion) are indeed at the very centre of existence. I think I’ll save this tangent for another time and another blog post; but I will again state that relationships are the stuff of life.

What is life made up of? Why, it’s made up of relationships. Don’t forget that important truth. Don’t neglect to cherish and enjoy the ‘stuff of life’.

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Psalm 23: My heart's desire...

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Psalm 23 has long been the most popular and well known of the Psalms from the Christian Scriptures. Across countless generations Christians have held these words dear, finding strength and comfort in them through difficult times.

The LORD is my shepherd;
I shall not want.
He makes me to lie down in green pastures;
He leads me beside the still waters.
He restores my soul;
He leads me in the paths of righteousness
For His name’s sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil;
For You are with me;
Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;
You anoint my head with oil;
My cup runs over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
All the days of my life;
And I will dwell in the house of the LORD
Forever.

I was reading this Psalm recently and was struck for the first time with a hint of the power with which these words have spoken to the hearts of countless Christians before me. As I read these words it suddenly occurred to me: truly, it is this Shepherd who can supply my heart's desire - my heart desires the green pastures, the still waters, a restored soul.

Though I often forget what it is that I want, in this Psalm I am reminded. It is not all the 'stuff' that we are told comprises the good life that I truly want; instead it is that which I cannot purchase that satisfies my wants, that which the Shepherd brings me... the restoration of my soul.

At times I may forget what my heart desires; but thankfully, there are also times when I am reminded. I attribute these reminders to the good Shepherd who guides me to those still waters. When my heart is heavy, when my soul is weary, it is to Him that I can turn to for peace, comfort, and restoration.

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The Question of Karma: and why I cannot agree with it...

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I’ve been thinking about this concept known as ‘Karma’. It’s an interesting belief system, but it seems to me that the tacit assumptions underlying it are not often considered. This I shall do here as I explain why I cannot agree with it.

In its positive occurrence it is understood to take the form of good actions returning to those who have previously taken good actions. For example, if one finds some money on the ground, this might be interpreted as the positive return of some previous charitable action that person had done (eg. helping out a financially strapped friend). The correlation need not be direct, as in this example, but the idea remains the same: a person receives good because they gave good. The negative occurrence would take the form of bad/hurtful actions returning to those who have previously undertaken some bad/hurtful action. Perhaps a person trips and falls, spraining his/her ankle in the process; this would be understood as being due to some previous bad action (such as insulting or hurting another person). In both of its forms (positive and negative), Karma is understood as the return of one’s actions. The idea is, put simply, one of cause and effect: actions (the cause), whether good or bad, will be returned in kind (the effect).

I take issue with this system of understanding on two accounts. The first problem I have with Karma as a belief system is its answer to the problem of pain. It is difficult to argue against the realization that suffering is an intrinsic part of life here on earth. When asking why this is so, it is important to remember that Karma is essentially retributive in nature: the central concepts at work are punishment and reward. It is a merit based system. Thus, if one is suffering, it is because one has done something to deserve the suffering. I disagree with this answer both philosophically and experientially. As many before me have done, I look around and see ‘bad’ people prospering and ‘good’ people suffering. I cannot abide by a belief system which seeks to hold a starving child accountable for his/her deplorable condition. I cannot abide by a belief system which looks at the poor and the downtrodden and tells them that they have dug their own hole. This seems a cold, perhaps cruel, belief system, which does not account for the problem of pain in a satisfactory way which reflects the reality of life (at least as far as I understand it).

The second problem I have with Karma as a belief system follows the first. Not only does it seem cold, to the point of cruelty, but it does not allow for grace and love. It is important to understand that grace cannot exist in a strictly merit based system. Grace is only possible when the person receiving the grace is undeserving of it. Grace by definition cannot be earned. Grace is the incarnation of love; it is love in embodied, love in action. Karma, as a belief system, does not have room for love. If love keeps no record of wrongs, and I believe this to be true, then Karma and love are incompatible. Since I believe in love, and I do with all that I am, then I cannot believe in Karma.

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Floral Analogies for Life...

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While walking home from work the other afternoon, which was another gorgeous, summery day, I was struck by the beautiful analogies which nature provides for us. As if out of nowhere, lovely flowers of all colours have appeared all over town here. Particularly in front of our municipal museum there are many beautiful yellow flowers. They have vibrant, strong green limbs and leaves and their delicate yellow petals were opened up as they soaked in the sun’s warm rays. I was reminded of a hymn that we had sung recently at our church.

Joyful, joyful, we adore Thee, God of glory, Lord of love;
Hearts unfold like flowers before Thee, opening to the sun above.

These lyrics present a magnificent analogy for the potential movement of the human heart. As I looked across the little sea of yellow flowers that were opened wide, drinking in the sun’s gift, my heart likewise unfolded and drank in the ambient glory that shone down on me.

I noticed some flowers which had yet to open. Their petals were small, closed, and more green than yellow. They were apparently not ready to greet the sun with open arms. Again, a very apt analogy. Life is a journey of growth in which we begin to open our petals and greet our life’s sustenance. Many of us are not yet ready to drink deep from the source; we are still small and green. As our hearts begin to change colour and unfold, it is indeed a glorious sight to behold.

My hope and prayer for myself and all my loved ones, family and friends, is that our hearts will indeed learn to unfold and welcome the life giving rays which are our sustenance.

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MMR vaccinations: thoughts on ignorance and willful ignorance...

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I'm just going to lay my cards on the table here. It seems to me that there are two main reasons to neglect the MMR (measles, mumps, and rubella) vaccination of one's child: ignorance and willful ignorance (obstinacy). Now, let me be absolutely clear on a couple important points here. First, to refer to one as ignorant is not to degrade or slander them. All people are, to varying degrees and at various times, ignorant of many things. We simply cannot be knowledgeable of everything. We begin life with so much to learn, and our subsequent life consists of that journey of declining ignorance as we grow and learn. Second, this is a sensitive topic and I want to be very clear that this isn't in any way meant to be an attack on the many parents who have nothing but the best of intentions and have only their children's welfare in mind when they, mistakenly, choose to neglect their children's MMR vaccination.

It is an amazing thing that in the face of overwhelming evidence there are many who continue to cry wolf about alleged links between the MMR vaccination and Austism/Austistic Spectrum Disorder. The anecdotal 'evidence' of those angry parents whose children have autism and blame the vaccination are indeed moving; and I do not know what it is like to walk the road that they do. However, the difficulty that they and families endure does not validate their claims of a link. A celebrity going public on a personal mission to warn parents about what could happen to their children also does not validate these claims. A parent's love of his/her child can be a powerful motivator; so can the fear of any harm coming to them. But these ought to motivate one to investigate the validity of these claims and not to simply swallow them whole. Herein lies the difference between ignorance, which is not a fault, and willful ignorance or obstinacy, which is. Every possible authority on the subject has repeatedly rejected such a link. Again and again, the claim that there is a connection between autism and the vaccination has been duly refuted.

If a parent is truly concerned about this question (possibly a justifiable concern when one considers the amount of media attention the issue received in recent years), they owe it to themselves and their children to find out what the real story is (not to simply listen to the self-righteous claims of some trendy blogger or celebrity who sees him/herself as a proper authority on the subject). There are credible agencies that one can turn to. There are medical professionals that one can ask. If your local public health unit tells you that your child is due for vaccinations and you have any questions, ask them. You don't even have to take their word for it; you could ask them to point you in the direction of some sources that may further address your concerns. This is the responsible course of action; conversely, simply neglecting to vaccinate your children is not.

I would even go so far as to argue that it is a parent's civic duty to get their children vaccinated. I say this fully cognizant that the idea of 'civic duty' is not an overly popular one in most segments of our culture. Nonetheless, as citizens we do have certain civic duties; and vaccinations for our children may just be one of them. By choosing to not vaccinate his/her child a parent is potentially putting countless people at risk of that which they do not vaccinate him/her against. The parent is potentially putting both the responsibility and the financial burden (thousands and thousands of dollars) of dealing with a possible outbreak on the shoulders of an already overburdened medical system. Some see this decision as a strictly personal choice; but it is not. If one decides to forgo the vaccination for his/her child, I would suggest that in order to do so responsibly, one ought to have a better justification for his/her choice than personal fear and the anecdotes of strangers.

I write this as one who was previously ignorant regarding this issue. I write this as one who desires that the truth will be known and parents' minds will be put at ease (and their children protected/vaccinated as they ought to be). I write this as one of the recently converted/educated on this and similar issues.

Ignorance is not fault; willful ignorance (in the face of overwhelming evidence) is.

http://www.bccdc.ca/imm-vac/CommonQuestions/VaccineSafety.htm

http://www.who.int/vaccine_safety/topics/mmr/mmr_autism/en/

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Everyday Life: rediscovering the ordinary...

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I was recently listing to the podcast of an Eastern Orthodox fellow in which he was discussing this idea of 'everyday life'. As he sees it, there is a problem in our western conception of the location of God: we're down here and God is up there. Following this logic, there is a separation between where we live and where God 'lives'. Though most Christians I know would not wholly agree with this concept in principle, I think that, for the most part, this a fair assessment of the way in which we tend to live our lives. That is to say: there are the more religious/spiritual aspects of life, which usually take place on a Sunday or at certain times throughout the week, and there are the everyday events, the everyday life, which comprised the bulk of 'real life'.

“Our entire existence, including those every day demands and activities that we see as being so removed from Him, all happen within the life of God. As we pray, he is everywhere present and fills all things. The Holy Trinity did not create us out of some void that exists at a distance from its own divine life; there can be no such void, for God is infinite. Or let me put it this way: His presence fills all, because the ‘all’ is Him. So, the mystical truth is that our whole existence goes on inside the life of the God who is its source. As Saint Paul tells us, “it is in God that we life and move and have our being” (Acts 17.28). That means our whole ‘we’re here and God’s there’ picture is erroneous. This image that we create of our ‘real world’ - the world of our job’s, our relationships, our trips to the grocery store or sports arena, golfing with the boss, parent teacher conferences, romantic dinners, picnicking at the beach - this image that we have of these as something that contrasts with the life of God is totally false. In every moment God is holding the fabric of our universe together; every breath we take, every beat of our hearts is not just a gift from Him – it is a movement of His own life. He is our substance. Everything in our world is made up of His energies. We are constantly surrounded by, and enveloped in, God." - Matthew Gallatin

When I heard this, I realized that it was quite similar to something which I have been trying to express regarding the nature of life. I felt that last bit was quite a beautiful thought: "every breath we take, every beat of our hearts is not just a gift from Him - it is a movement of His own life".

How would our lives be different if we could only live as thought this is true? I firmly believe that it is; and I find myself on a path in which God is seen in the entirety of life and the whole of the created order. The most mundane of our daily tasks is "a movement in [God's] own life" - what a thought.

What a beautiful thought.. no, what a beautiful reality.

What's in a symbol?

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So here I am @ home working @ putting together a post on the Asperand symbol. For those who know my aversion to this newspeak that blankets our modern world of tweeting and SMS texting (and increasingly so in the world of email and even paper writing, yes, academic paper writing at the university level... but that's a whole other blog post), this may seem a strange post. But, here we go.

I recently heard that the Museum of Modern Art in New York has added the Asperand (@) to its architecture and design collection. Apparently this ubiquitous little symbol, which is now an indelible part of our culture, has a long history. This surprised me as I had never noticed it until the advent of email (which make sense since I had never really looked at a keyboard with anything resembling interest until I procured my first email account... mc_diplo@yahoo.com).

It would seem that medeival monks had created (or at the very least utilized) the Asperand as a ligature symbol in the stead of the Latin preposition ad (to, towards, near, until, etc.). When preceding numbers this preposition takes on the gloss of 'about', which is the sense in which they used it. If there was any doubt about why this might interest me, let it be known that anything connected with Latin will likely interest me (which includes, to some degree or other, most things in western culture).

I've also heard that it was used by Venetian merchants in the 16th century, traveled around Europe (France, Spain, Portugal, etc.), eventually ended up on the first typewriter around the end of the 19th century, and from there found its way into every home in the western world on laptops, cellphones and every other little tech-tool that's cool to carry.

In English, we call this little guy (or gal?) an 'Asperand'. Not terribly exciting. The Italian call it the 'snail' (chiocciola). The Dutch and Germans call it the 'monkey tail'; the Chinese, the 'little mouse' and the Russians have given it the nickname, 'doggie'.

Who knew? So much fun packed into this little symbol. I wonder though, does the Asperand appear more feminine or masculine? I would tend towards the feminine: all those curves.

What's in a symbol? A rich history apparently.


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Some people will tell you She is not there...

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Most people will tell you She cannot be seen;
But I see Her all around;
Some people will tell you She is not there;
But I shall tell you a different sort of tale.

Like giant arboreal soldiers,
They are lined in their rows;
Arrayed in formation they stand at attention;
They sway, they bob, and they bow;
Low, as if on bended knee;
Yes, reverently they bow before her majestic royalty.

Like grazing sheep,
Great, unshorn, and woolly beasts,
The distant herd moves lazily across the blue plains,
Guided by their caring shepherdess;
She nudges and prods them as they feed,
Gently moving them onward through the sky,
To the green pastures and still waters,
Of the northern horizon.

Like waves on the high sea,
They ripple across the Spring grass;
Her delicate fingers brushing each green blade;
These waves moving ever nearer,
Make their way to me,
And splash onto my face;
Her fingers, cold to the touch this Spring morn,
Press against my face, and numb my cheeks;
Continuing to walk,
I drop my head down and lean forward,
Just enough to balance Her push.

Most people will tell you She cannot be seen;
Yet, I see Her all around;
Some people will tell you She is not there;
Who is it then, do tell,
That so stirs my soul?

Yes, some people will tell you She is not there;
But I shall tell you a different sort of tale.

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Holy Week & Easter 2010 (it's a long post)

I was sick this past week. Honestly, it really didn't matter much to me. It was the high-point of the Church year and no mere cold was going to keep me down.

Holy Thursday: This is usually a small evening service at our church - maybe a couple dozen people show up. Each year on the day before Good Friday, we commemorate the Last Supper of Jesus Christ and his Apostles. I find it to be a very powerful and humbling experience every year. Especially the foot-washing. Our Priest 'girds' himself and kneels down to wash the feet of the congregation in imitation of Jesus having washed the feet of his disciples on that passover eve.

"Then He poured water into the basin, and began to wash the disciples' feet and to wipe them with the towel with which He was girded... So when He had washed their feet, and taken His garments and reclined at the table again, He said to them, "Do you know what I have done to you? You call Me Teacher and Lord; and you are right, for so I am. If I then, the Lord and the Teacher, washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet. For I gave you an example that you also should do as I did to you." (John 13)

Just as Jesus had commissioned his Apostles to follow in his example of service and humility, so too are we commissioned to go and do likewise as we participate in the Holy Wednesday Liturgy. I find this to be a very powerful symbol and reminder of my Christian vocation every year: I am to be a servant.

At the closing of the Liturgy, the congregation comes forward and strips the altar and surrounding area of the colourful vestments and holy items until the entire front of the church is barren. For a liturgically minded person this is a jarring experience to behold. The colours and symbols of our faith have been removed and taken from our sight. The lights are then turned off and we all leave in silence. Here again we are commemorating and sharing in the experience of Jesus' disciples that evening so long ago in the garden of Gethsemane.

"Judas, one of the twelve, came up accompanied by a crowd with swords and clubs, who were from the chief priests and the scribes and the elders. Now he who was betraying Him had given them a signal, saying, "Whomever I kiss, He is the one; seize Him and lead Him away under guard. After coming, Judas immediately went to Him, saying, "Rabbi!" and kissed Him. They laid hands on Him and seized Him... And they all left Him and fled." (Mark 14)

With the altar stripped and the lights turned off, in that darkness walking away from the barren altar, I felt as one of the disciples on that night so long ago.

Good Friday: Every year on Good Friday at our church there are two parts - one traditional and one liturgical. The first part, the traditional part, is the 'Stations of the Cross'. Here we gather and travel the fourteen stations which commemorate the various parts of Jesus passion beginning with his being condemned to death culminating with his being buried in the tomb. Here we read devotional prayers relating to each of the stations along his journey and remember the suffering he endured that day two millennia ago. The second part is the Good Friday Liturgy itself. I won't share much about this service other than to say that it's not a happy service. As my priest put it in one of his sermons: 'God is dead; God is very, very dead". We listen to the Scriptures as they tell us of his trials and suffering that day; we cry out with the crowds, "Crucify Him!" and and silently acknowledge that it was for us and because of us that he died. It is a strange mystery that the immortal, infinite God in the person of Jesus Christ could die on a cross for us. Looking up at the altar, it felt so naked and bare, and so too did our hearts feel that day.

"When they came to the place called The Skull, there they crucified Him and the criminals, one on the right and the other on the left. But Jesus was saying, "Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing"... It was now about the sixth hour, and darkness fell over the whole land until the ninth hour, because the sun was obscured; and the veil of the temple was torn in two. And Jesus, crying out with a loud voice, said, "Father, into your hands I commend my spirit". Having said this, He breathed His last." (Luke 23)

The Great Vigil of Easter: This is it! This is (if you'll pardon the comparison) the Superbowl of Church Liturgies, the Stanley Cup Final (game seven, triple overtime) of the Church year - yes my friends... this is the real deal. If through my own ignorance and apathy, I somehow managed to forget why I'm a Christian for an entire year... this is the night on which I would remember with perfect clarity and vision. After forty days of Lenting, after the darkness and death of Good Friday, we finally come to the celebration of life.

In the early Church (this is my understanding, anyone with better knowledge please feel free to correct me if I'm wrong) the Easter celebration would be an all night affair. It would indeed be a vigil through the night. It would begin following the sunset and continue until the sun rises the next morning. It was the night in which the light conquered the darkness: candles and torches would be kept burning throughout the night until the glorious sunrise (is there a better symbol of Christ's resurrection?). The participants would sing hymns as pray throughout the night until the morning when the Eucharist was celebrated. It was the traditional time for the initiation of the newly faithful through the waters of baptism.

Our service begins outdoors in the darkness of the night. The priest then lights and blesses the Easter fire. The Easter Candle is then lit from the fire and processes into the building and into the sanctuary as the congregation follows and a canticle is sung. Once inside the sanctuary, the flame is passed from person to person, candle to candle until the whole sanctuary is lit up by the light of the candles each person is holding. From there the lights at the altar are lit. It is a very powerful moment as the cantor sings about the resurrection and the room is lit by candle light. It always feels very ancient and very alive to me, as if the two thousand years between the resurrection of our Lord and the night in which we are celebrating have melted away and we are there watching and praising that first sunrise the morning of his inauguration of new and eternal life for humanity. We then listen as the Scriptures are opened and read, as the Hebrew prophets from time immemorial tell us of the coming messiah, and as the Gospel writers tell us of that glorious day in which the prophecies were fulfilled in Jesus Christ. New members are then brought into the family of the faith, baptized into the death and resurrection of Jesus they join his earthly body of believers and unite with his resurrected life and the hope that accompanies it. We then speak the words that we have withheld for the duration of Lent. We sing the 'Gloria', we use words such as 'resurrection' and 'alleluia'. We celebrate the Eucharist with gladness of hearts and joy on our lips. We share in the foretaste of Christ's coming kingdom as the bread and the wine nourish our souls; we drink of the grace that has been won through Christ's blood. There is singing and chanting - life has conquered death! Love has overcome! I don't know that I could be more filled with joy than I was that night.

There is a tradition that the young adults at our church take part in every year. We gather together at someone's home and continue the celebration begun at the Easter Vigil service, though it changes modes. We gather together, bringing food and drink in abundance and celebrate life. Oh, it was so much fun. I don't normally stay up that late (till after 3am), but it was worth it. I had beer and bourbon and wine and cake and donuts and cookies and homemade fries and chocolate covered espresso beans and so many other good and tasty things; but most of all I had the company of friends and joyful laughter and good conversation; I had hugs and slaps on the back, even a few high-fives. There was no shortage of smiles; it felt good. If at no other time, I knew with all my heart that all was right, that love was the foundation of the universe and life would continue aeternally. With all the confidence of Christ's resurrection our party mockingly shouted to the powers of corruption: 'Oh death, where is thy sting?'.

Easter Sunday: Early the next morning (a fews hours after falling asleep), I arose with a slight headache (probably the bourbon), drank some water, and began to cook dozens of cookies for the Easter Sunday service. What a glorious morning! Up with the crack of dawn and getting ready to go. This service probably has the biggest attendance of any during the year (maybe Christmas competes for numbers?). I was smiling the whole service. I love church, I love the Liturgy. I love hearing the holy Scriptures, reciting the creeds, and speaking the words of the liturgy that have been passed on through the many centuries, words which may be some of the truest words I'll ever speak. I love sharing in the Eucharist - kneeling down and receiving the body and blood of our Lord, receiving grace and forgiveness and acceptance and hope. Yeah, I was grinning the whole service. Afterward we had coffee time with snacks and cappuccinos (which I was able to help out with thanks to my barista skills). The kids ran around and did kid things; the adults stood around with their caffeinated beverages and did adult things. It was Easter alright.

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My dear wife and I went to my mother's place after church to hang out and get Easter dinner ready for our family. I really enjoy my family; and I'm glad my wife does too. My little sister and I made dinner: vegetarian lasagna (a recent Curll family tradition). We sat around the living room, ate, shared stories and memories;.I chased my five-year-old niece around the house and talked about cilantro and vegan soups with my sister's boyfriend. My younger brother and I made subtle and witty references to music lyrics and Simpson's episodes; my older brother and I talked about school and movies and garlic. I often glanced across the room to watch my beautiful wife interacting with my family and it warmed my heart. My mother had made apple pie and we put iced cream on it (after forty days of Lenting dairy products, oh that iced cream was good). I enjoyed the company of my wife and my family (and my good friend from Nebraska who joined us). I was thankful for the life and the love that I have been given. Our Easter family dinner is not religious in any common sense of the term; but we were able to enjoy the life and love that we have been given and what's more religious than that. After all, Easter is all about life and love. Life and love... amen.

Happy Easter! He is risen indeed!