Last year, I was blessed to spend Easter in the Black Forest. There was a dusting of new snow that morning and I attended mass alone in a beautiful church where the only word I truly understood was “Amen.” It was perfect. In the little town of Neustadt, thousands of miles from “home,” I had a deep sense of belonging to something larger than the daily world I have made for myself and my children. I loved that holiday.
This year, the boys and I enjoyed a special dinner on Holy Saturday. I jumped off the meatless Lent train a day early and we feasted on prime rib and grilled asparagus. I opened a fine bottle of Bordeaux which, after our meal was consumed and cleaned up, I brought to the neighbors’ to share. There were more bottles of wine uncorked and I enjoyed a relaxed spring evening. It was lovely.
This morning, I mastered the lamb cake mold my family had mailed from Germany a few weeks back. It took three attempts to nail it. The first try was a disaster – the pan fell over in the (newly cleaned) oven making an impressive mess as the batter flowed into the most impossible to clean crevices. Take two involved an unfortunate premature slide of the cake from the perfectly buttered and floured mold as the poor lamb lost its head. Literally. Toothpicks put things back in place, but I decided to give it one final shot this morning and I found success.
These different experiences from last year to now, offer a wonderful perspective, for me, about life and living. Home is where we feel loved. Friends are family. Sometimes we need to keep trying to get something right. And, finally, we all need to rise up and live the life we have been given. Happy Easter.