This post was intended to be about jelly beans. Classic jelly beans, not the offerings of spiced, Starburst, Jelly Belly or Harry Potter, but the real deal, the vibrant, honest tangy bursts of flavor scattered among the showier treats. I intended to hunt my memories for events from the ancient ages of my youth.
However, here is a smattering, in no particular order, of the Holy Week just experienced. Vibrant and tangy, the events are flavored with the sweet message, “He is risen!”
Plans for departure advanced a day. In typical Wisconsin weather fashion, we were hurtling from springy temps of mid-sixties to a major snow storm.
Days with a two year old granddaughter. “Annie got this.” (Name pronounced ‘Onnie”. ) Sometimes yes, she did. Sometimes no.Maundy Thursday service and the Lord’s Supper at our son’s congregation. Precious words, “Our Lord Jesus Christ, the same night in which He was betrayed, ‘this is my body… ‘this is my blood,'”
Storm past, sunshine re-starts spring. Drive from son’s to daughter’s.
Baking, cookies, butter horns, concocting a jello salad with layers that never end. Ribs slowly cooking on the grill for 8-10 hours. Max, the dog, tortured by the succulent scents.
Games, long soaks in the hot tub, keeping
track of the Sweet Sixteen, wonder as most grandparents do- “Just when did these babies turn into teens and near teens?”
Ultrasound pictures. “It’s a girl!”
The first in a series of e-mails. Newest 2 mo. old granddaughter is in the hospital. Requires brain surgery. Information flows to us. Matt flies back from India.
Easter morning. “He is Risen. He is Risen indeed” Tears of joyous emotion, tears of hope, tears of comfort, tears of prayer.
Understanding shoulders that don’t mind the wet.
Basket hunt, egg hunt, massive pan of scalloped potatoes and ham. Arrivals and departures. Lost key hunt. John meets Matt at O’Hare.
Milwaukee to Marshfield. A drive, ceaseless as the layers of the jello salad, through the tunnel of the night. The glow of the GPS as it vainly tries to redirect, plans new routes which are ignored. More road, more headlights, more night. Marshfield. Hospital. Motel.
Kaylee, Vanessa, Matt.
An unexpected visit from a former summer boarder. He’s a doctor? A surgeon? Should I have known? Did I know and forget?
Kaylee, Vanessa, Matt.
The vibrant tang and burst of sweet comfort.
“Why seek ye the living among the dead? He is not here, for He is risen as He said!”
“And sometimes I think about a one-and-a-half-year old child with its baby teeth still coming in, whose days on this earth were so very, very few.” (National Geographic, July 1988, page 53) The author of the article, haunted by that scene as he unearthed the remains of a 4th century town on the Island of..Read More ›
We spent a half week with all nine of the children and the twelve grandchildren. The occasion was our son’s wedding. Tears threatened when the boys, now men, stood as groomsmen for their brother. The struggle of our grandson to stay awake and the relaxed attitude in one of the boy’s suits served to prevent..Read More ›