He Lives. It's a Historical Fact.

So far, so good.
The Easter weekend is half-over, two days done, two to go.
And it's all been golden.

I missed seeing my dad on Good Friday, as I went to a city-wide church service, which was so, so good. Seriously awesome. What makes a service good? Fabulous worship band (I think they were from Columbia Bible College and they had a gal playing violin) and I KNEW ALL THE SONGS. That's all it takes.

Afterwards, I went to AfterThoughts (all by myself) to grab a bite to eat. I had a ham n potato brioche that was delish. I didn't even ask them to pack it up to go... I sat at a table (all by myself) and enjoyed it, slowly. (Who am I?) This was easy to do (ie not embarrassing) as I was the only person in the entire restaurant. Which is unusual, because, hello? This is After Thoughts. Busiest place after a church service in all of Abby. ALL the married 50-something-year-olds hang out there on Saturday nights.

Originally I had invited my kids to a turkey dinner on Friday night (or any night. Or any lunch) during this Easter weekend, but they all declined. So I remembered Jesus dying on the cross all on my own. First in an Alliance church. Then in a dessert cafe. Eating a french pastry.

Then I came home and fell asleep on my couch.
I am living the life of a 70 year old.

Drew and Danica were looking for a TV to watch (they were all in use at her parent's place) at 9 pm, so I moved my napping, snoring self off the couch and into the kitchen so they could watch a movie. And I puttered in a room that has been ignored these past 7 weeks.

After Danica left? I watched 4 episodes of Downton Abbey.

Some might say that I had just lived through a perfect day.
I would be inclined to agree.

Today was Saturday.
I had coffee with a friend at noon. (Um, yeah. It's been WEEKS since I've done this. I've missed it so much. You can't even.)
Then I went to Guildford to pick up Purdy's chocolates for the kids. And the nurses. And dad's roommate, George.
Then I went to the hospital.
(Are you totally loving this running commentary of my day? And then. And then. And then.)
(By the way? It was SUNNY and WARM today. And I was not in my backyard enjoying it.)
I visited with my mom while my dad slept. (He always sleeps when she's there. It's like he finally relaxes.)
By the way? He looks fabulous. He has de-aged. The years are just falling off him... He looks like he's 60.
Plus? This no eating for 3 weeks? He's lost weight. And he has great color.

Whereas I? Have picked up his lost years and added them to my face. And his lost weight? Was found. Attached to my ass.

So I hung out at the hospital, and like the Easter bunny, spread good cheer and chocolates. Then drove over to Coastal Riders to get Gift Certificates for the kids. (Because this is what I do for Valentine's Day and Easter.) And then I went to the dollar store to pick up tiny little gift bags.

And then I drove straight out to Abbotsford for church for the Easter Sunday service, Saturday-Evening-style. (In Abbotsford, Jesus rose the next day.)

Mom joined me and we didn't sit in her/their usual spot at the back because we didn't have dad with us. (So choosing a seat in relation to where the bathroom exit is wasn't necessary.) And where we sit didn't have a huge impact on how the service progressed with the exception of the singing. I usually sit behind the inked-up young man with the long hair and jeans. I often wonder what his story is. He looks like he's new to the whole church scene, and that he'd be really comfortable with Max's crew over at an NA meeting. I mean, he looks all clean and engaged, and he has an "abba" tatoo on his hand right between his thumb and forefinger, but he's not got the shorter spiked hair, or the skinny jeans.

Anyways, today, he was directly behind me for the first time. Only I didn't know until part way through the service. And when I turned around to shake his hand (during the obligatory, "say hi and welcome someone" break in songs) I was stunned it was him.

Know why?

Because I has just listened to him sing 3 songs. Loudly. Kind of in my ear. With gusto. Boldly. With confidence. On key. No missed notes. No cringe-y moments. And even before I turned around, his voice got me choked up. (Just like the night before at the Good Friday service when I stood next to a young-ish man (early 30's) who fidgeted and couldn't sit still while folks were arriving and finding seats. But as soon as we stood to sing, he bellowed beautifully. It was so raw and heart felt.) It undid me. I couldn't stop the tears from overflowing.

I am not used to being in the presence of men singing. My dad, brother, (ex) husband, and sons all do (did) not sing in church. I usually spend time with women. And sit with women. But this Easter weekend, during 2 out of 2 church services, I've heard, upclose, two very different, non-professional, young men sing praise and worship songs and it was stunningly beautiful.

Know what else?
We had a guy in tonight's worship band playing an accordion. And seriously. It was sexy.
Just kidding.
It wasn't. But WHOA. SO amazing. He coaxed sounds out of that instrument that I'd never heard before. I absolutely loved it. Who knew?

(Know what else? I don't think we should learn 3 new songs on Easter Sunday/Saturday.
Know what else? I will probably forgive him for the 3 new songs because the last song? How Great Thou Art with a pumped up rockabilly beat? Is going to stick with me all week. And I loved it. Tempted to go to church on Sunday to catch the tail end of one of the 4 services just to sing that one again.) (I just checked all the How Great Thou Art versions on Youtube, and no one else uses that same snappy arrangement.) Go ahead. Ask me how many versions of How Great Thou Art have I listened to this evening. Well, the Carry Underwood/Vice Gill one gave me goosebumps so I listened to that version twice. And the Alan Jackson version. And Elvis. And Hillsong. And Chris Tomlin. And Newsong. The Statler Bros. And so on and so forth.
... Then I shall bow
In humble adoration
And there proclaim,
"My God, how great Thou art!"

ANYway ...after church I met a friend for dinner. And she let me talk for 2 hours straight. Then she prayed for me, in my truck and I cried.

And when I got home, Drew and Danica were here. Which is always nice. I love coming home to an non-empty home. And they wanted to confirm their idea that we spend Easter Sunday at THE LAKE. Doing artistic/creative things. And maybe eating TURKEY.

And wow. I love 4 day weekends. And Easter. And friends. And family. And turkey dinners. And church. And sunny days. And Purdy's chocolate. And my bed. And my kids. And nurses who clean up shitty messes. And moms who love dads. And people who stay married even when they don't feel like it. And guys who sing with their outside voices inside church. And assorted purple flowers that pop out of the dirt. And how it's a historical fact that Jesus died and rose again. And how that fact matters. And I love cheesecake. And friends who don't give up on me even though I kinda disappeared for 7 weeks. And just for today, I'm not going to worry about my job situation. Or my housing situation. Or my dad's long-term prognosis. Just for today, I'm going to be thankful that He died. And rose again.

Shalom,