M and I went to Michigan to see my parents and grandparents and celebrate Easter. We went to Good Friday service where they have to do all of those prayers of the faithful and read the whole passion and you have to stay standing. Then on Saturday we went to the Easter Vigil at 9:30pm which is always so long but very nice. The candles and the incense. Nothing else smells like that. The standing, the kneeling, standing, sitting, holding hands, giving peace. The songs, the prayers, the ritual: it always feels like it's running through my veins, a part of my bones and lungs and stuff.
How Jesus had all of his friends over for dinner and he like knew something bad was going to happen but just cared about making sure they knew he really loved them and cared about them. And then they just got to like eat and drink all night to try and forget about the scary stuff.
How he must have been dreading how awful it would be for his mama.
how little it matters if it's actually true it probably wasn't but it's been a reason for people to honor their loved ones who have passed and a reason to gather and be grateful and remember that love is probably stronger than anything else so I don't really mind the absurdity of it all