The Mary in me wants to reflect on the holiness of this day. I want to spend it in meditation, solitude, in comtemplative prayer. I want to give him my full attention. Re-watch The Passion, as uncomfortable and terribly sad as that movie makes me feel. I want the focus to be on him, so that he knows I feel the sacrifice he made for me. If I had been there, I pray that I could have been the Veronica who wiped his brow.
The Martha in me is already making a list of what I must do today, to get ready for Easter brunch and a houseful of family. Sorting out Easter basket stuffings, checking grocery lists against recipes, cleaning bathrooms, checking everyone's closets for Easter outfits. Paying bills.
Tonight I will have an opportunity for my quiet time. My 17-year-old son has a role in the Stations of the Cross at church. He plays Peter. Yesterday afternoon he asked us if he could rehearse his lines. With heartfelt emotion, he put into words what must have been in Peter's heart as he denied Christ that night. The younger two kids and I sat, speechless, eyes riveted. We were all very quiet when he finished and the room was still. For a few moments the TV was off, the lists in my head were absent, and we were all sharing the moment.
For an awesome post on the glory of Easter, read Becky's at The Butler's Wife. Be sure to listen to the music video! Easter blessings to everyone!