A Not Quite Perfect Easter Breakfast... And Why It Doesn't Matter...

It was one of those occasions I had all planned out in my head. We would come downstairs, dressed and ready for the day, sit around the table together, eating poached eggs and hot cross buns and read the Easter story together. A celebration of the event that stands at the heart of our faith, and an opportunity to teach our children...

Except that these things never quite go to plan, do they?

It started well... The clock change meant that Jonas and I were up earlier than everyone else. My little early riser and I snuck down the stairs to the table I'd laid the night before... He sat on the rug and played happily while I grabbed some photos in the early morning light. It was serene, and peaceful and I pottered around making it all beautiful and ready for the rest of the family. My own heart filled with joy and the rememberance of the day. There is something about Easter Sunday.. It gets me every year...

Thunder above. They were up.

Jonas and I headed back upstairs, everyone got dressed, showered, and fifteen minutes later, we were ready to head down the stairs for the second time.

And we had some delighted little children...

Their joy was effervescent, meaning that they were slightly more rowdy than usual. A sudden dawning that the clock change meant Jonas had needed to go down for his nap five minutes ago if there was any hope of a sleep before church meant a rushed down breakfast for him before I nipped upstairs to tuck him back into bed. By the time I came down, the girls had wolfed down their breakfasts and were asking to get down from the table before Dave and I had even sat down, and the cherry on top was that the toaster kept blowing it's fuse, meaning we had only half-toasted hot cross buns!

"This is not the plan!" I thought to myself! "This is not the sit down, family celebration I had envisioned!" One child was asleep, two were finished, and Dave was still sorting out his own breakfast as I tucked into mine!

A few stern words were spoken... I'm not going to lie. Two little girls did stay at the table, though on very wriggly bottoms... And only really calmed down once the Easter story began. Yes, the Easter story which Jonas missed completely.

But do you know what?

That's real life! Parenting in its rawest form. When dreams are dashed, and reality disappoints... You realise that often out of the "ashes" comes true beauty.

And that is exactly the heart of the Easter Story... Beauty from brokenness... Life from death... Joy from sorrow... Jesus: battered, tortured, murdered - gloriously risen from the grave, leaving an empty tomb behind him!

So as I read that Easter story in the hurry before church, in amongst the fusing toaster, sleeping baby and excitable girls, and husband still clearing up the mess in the kitchen... I realised again that the Easter story is the greatest "out of the ashes" story ever told.

From his death, I get life. From his suffering, I get freedom. Jesus is alive! So bring on the messes, the muddles and the slightly less than perfect. They are a daily reminder of my need for resurrection hope!

And here was our little Easter bunny re-nap!

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