Some Thoughts on Easter

I apologize in advance for those who would see this post as light-minded or inappropriate in any way. I don't mean to trivialize the atonement and resurrection at all by what I'm about to say.

As I sat in church on Easter Sunday, and even in the days leading up to it, I felt what I'm going to call "the spirit of Easter" more this year than I think I've ever felt it before. What it boiled down to was an overwhelming sense of gratitude - not just for the resulting blessings of Christ's actions, but for the actions themselves.

I am grateful for the promise of a universal resurrection, and somewhat more so for the opportunity my Savior has afforded me to repent of my sins. This year, what was foremost in my mind, though, was the way in which Jesus accomplished His great labor of love. And I must say that a big part of getting a handle on my Easter thoughts and feelings this year was by thinking about some of our great modern, secular parables.

As I sat in Sacrament Meeting, I thought of little Frodo, accepting the burden of the one ring at the council in Rivendell, even though he had little knowledge of the difficulties ahead of him. I thought of the great lion, Aslan, who forgave even Edmund's treachery. And I thought of Harry Potter, who (spoiler alert!) walked into the Forbidden Forest at midnight, planning to lay down his life for his friends.

I am not implying, of course, that these stories rival holy Scripture, or that the experiences of these fictional characters compare to the ultimate sacrifice of the very non-fictional Jesus of Nazareth. What I am saying is that the themes in these books (and others)-- themes of sacrifice, love, forgiveness, and of fighting for a cause bigger than oneself -- deeply resonate with me, and with so many people.

I guess that the ideas encompassed by the word "atonement" are so big, and the sacrifices Jesus made so awesome, in the true sense of the word, that it is helpful for me to approach the subject via allegory. I find I can better relate to the thoughts and feelings of a small hobbit or young wizard than a person who was literally the Son of God, and who had no faults, and who suffered for the sins of countless billions. So I am grateful for these contemporary parables, that in a very small way help me better understand and appreciate the Greatest Story Ever Told -- that of the empty tomb.

The (Almost) Completely Fictional Post

Today was a great day. I arose, as I so often do, at five a.m. with a song in my heart. I said a long, uninterrupted morning prayer, studied Scripture, and did my Pilates workout by six. I then showered, dressed, and applied makeup, makeup which in no way was irreparably damaged by my son at any time today.

At seven o'clock, James knocked gently on his bedroom door, and said, "Mommy, I'm up! Can I come out of my room now?" We breakfasted on whole-grain, sugar-free, nutrient-rich food which had been harvested and packaged using sustainable, eco-friendly processes. James ate, as usual, a well balanced meal.

After starting the laundry and washing the breakfast dishes, we exited the spotlessly clean flat in an orderly manner and visited a museum a few blocks away. James obeyed my every suggestion, holding my hand the entire time without a fuss, and refrained at all times from touching the priceless antiques and furniture.

We returned home for lunch, which was as hearty and wholesome as breakfast. After lunch, James went of his own accord up to his room for a nice, long nap. Because he slept so soundly and so long, I was able to get some necessary tasks accomplished. I worked on our taxes, scheduled my Visiting Teaching appointments, and did some crocheting while listening to my French lessons.

James awoke in time for a visit from our friends, Hanna and Henry. James was in a great mood, owing to all the rest he had gotten, and at no time did he make Henry cry. Not at all.

After our friends left, James and I had a peaceful and restful evening, playing gently with one another until James' bedtime. We rounded out the evening with a nice, homemade dinner. After family prayer, James gave me a goodnight kiss and drifted off to sleep. I sighed as I gazed upon him, wondering what I did to deserve such a lovely child.

And now I'm off to bed myself, content with knowing that I've done some good in the world today.

Pupaphobia

In case you're wondering, it's the fear of puppets. And James has it. He becomes violently frightened when anyone with any kind of puppet demonstrates its use. I would add pictures of James being traumatized by puppets, but I think it would be cruel to laugh at his very real affliction. I should say it would be cruel for more people to laugh at his pain, because Micah and I have already enjoyed this little joke at his expense.

So far, he has been scared out of his mind by a dinosaur puppet, a wolf puppet, and even one of his own mittens being used as a sort of puppet. You know, like, "hey, James, I'm your mitten. If you put me on your hand, I'll keep you warm," with the fingers and thumb parts of the mitten being moved up and down to simulate a talking mouth. Yeah, he completely freaked.

It's good to know, though, that if these issues persist, there is help out there for people like James.

Cambridge

We went by train (fifty minutes from King's Cross station) last Saturday. The photo shows the Bridge of Sighs.

The Artiste

I just wanted you all to know that among my other domestic skills and talents, which are many, I have lately added "Mommy Artist Extraordinaire." James often requests my drawings, and I am all too happy to oblige. My chosen medium is usually the Magna Doodle, as will be exhibited in the following pieces.

One of James' most oft-desired subjects is "a train," my version of which you see here -

I have expanded my repertoire to include Thomas the Tank Engine -


and his friend, Percy, shown below. Notice the subtle delineations between the two -

James has also commissioned several times "a Mr. Potato Head."


And finally, once in a while, James will ask me to draw "a girl baby."

I must admit that there has been some encouragement on my part for the election of this subject.

The Mad Hatter

James likes to wear Daddy's hat.

The Long and Winding Post

I've been meaning to post a lot of little things, but haven't made the time. So now you'll all be subjected to a torrent of miscellanea.

1. Yesterday morning, the entire flat smelled like kippers. That's right, kippers. Micah decided it would be a very British thing to do - so he bought, cooked, and ate some. This event will not be repeating itself anytime soon. Maybe ever.

2. The (insert ordinal here) reason to love British socialism - YMCA nursery vouchers. Yep, I get to go work out at the Y (for free) and leave James in the nursery (for free) up to twice a week. They also have (free) swim classes for James there. We haven't gone to any yet, but I'm planning on trying them out.

3. James and I went to the Sherlock Holmes Museum last Thursday, which is located at "The World's Most Famous Address," according to the promotional material. I will give a cool prize to anyone who actually knows the address Sherlock Holmes fictionally lived at before looking at the above hyperlink.

4. After struggling for the better part of the last 3 1/2 years with motherhood and its trappings, and desiring to define for myself what exactly the essence of being a full-time mom is, I have come up with a Mommy Mission Statement: It is my purpose to promote the healthy spiritual, physical, mental, social, and emotional development of my children. When I think of my daily tasks in this context, it helps me focus on the bigger picture: I'm not just changing another diaper or cleaning up another upturned bowl of cereal; I'm promoting James's healthy physical development. Etc. I would appreciate your thoughts on this.

5. I have looked in a new way at the scriptural account of Jesus, Mary, and Martha in which Martha is "cumbered about much serving" and Mary is sitting at Jesus' feet, listening to "his word." Martha complains; Jesus replies that Mary "hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her." (Luke 10:38-42.) I am Martha, and instead of being mildly offended and perplexed by this bit of counsel, as I have been up until now, I am suddenly liberated by it. One thing is needful. But the one thing isn't a thing. It's the attitude with which you do the thing - the why and not the what.

6. I saw Juno on Friday evening with my lovely friend, Josie. I really recommend this movie, but not because it was especially "hip" or "smart" or whatever silly label the critics are throwing at it. This movie is getting a lot of critical acclaim, not undeserved, but for the wrong reasons. For me, the film was brilliant and the best I saw all year because it made me really uncomfortable -- in the sense that witnessing a very intimate exchange between two people makes you uncomfortable, or watching an awkward teenager get picked on at school makes you uncomfortable. The characters and storyline draw you in so quickly and completely that when something tragic happens to them, you realize that it's also happening vicariously to you. Juno's fetus becomes a metaphor for how vulnerable she is - and in turn, how vulnerable we all are. And isn't that vulnerability at the heart of what we find beautiful? Why we coo over newborns and love the fact that even Superman has his kryptonite? (*Erik could have written a much better review. Regardless of what he thinks of this movie.)

7. Thoughts about President Hinckley's passing: I am so grateful for a Prophet. Reflecting on President Hinckley's life has increased my testimony of the love our Heavenly Father has for all His children. Yes, we are losing the association of a wonderful person with a smashing sense of humor. But the work goes on, and the Lord has provided someone - will always provide someone - perfectly qualified to take his place. (I wish I could say the same for secular governments.) Watching GBH's funeral also caused me to reflect on how blessed I am to be a part of a very loving and supportive family, and how grateful I am to all of you.