Easter combined with conference weekend this year.
Conference means spiritual and physical feasting.
It's a feast to me for body and soul, words and calories that soothe my insides, my belly and my heart.
Saturday morning began with eggs and orange slices and homemade cinnamon bread and Bircher Mueslix, a Swiss thing involving yogurt and fruit and oats and nuts.
(We eat a lot of it around here.)
We gathered round the table to eat, just as the radio brought the Tab Choir right into our kitchen, as 10:00 a.m. rolled around.
She has serious orange love these days.
Then, our front room turned into this as the kids engaged in various activities and we listened.
That evening, after the second session and dinner, we gathered round the table to dye eggs, the first time participating for the smallest nugget in these parts.
That night, before I went to bed, I set out what they would find in the morning, and took a few minutes to write each of them a note.
My kids know what I believe -- we talk about faith on a daily basis.
But I wanted them to know of my conviction of Jesus Christ on Easter morning.
He's the reason; He's the celebration.
Easter morning was Belgian waffles with cream and berries, bananas and nuts, orange slices on the side.
After the second session, we headed down to my sister's house for a family BBQ and a hunt for the kiddos.
We hung out and talked, played some cards, enjoyed being together.
Traditions -- these roots we send down in action, memories that become some of who we are.
(And, it must be said...I personally love Claire's little red salt water sandals. They're my fave.)