I just couldn’t get my mind wrapped around the traditions this year. I think it was partly because I have to think ahead when writing or else everything I submit will be after the fact.

Possibly it had something to do with Easter being late this year, so I was racing past it to get on with summer. Perhaps it was just because I was weather-weary; the winter had been so cold, and when spring finally tried to creep in, it brought with it severe storms and tornadoes.

Then there’s the reality that the six months leading up to Easter had been a seemingly constant blur of one medical appointment after another. I should have been grateful that they were winding down and life was a little more normal. I could list a dozen excuses, but my truth was that I just didn’t feel like keeping traditions.

Oh, I spent time every morning during the seven weeks of Lent studying devotionals, and I never failed to find myself emotionally connected to Jesus and his journey to the cross. I gathered new insights and, yes, I wept for his suffering and in the knowledge of human cruelty beyond belief, but when it came to everything else associated with Easter, I was just going through the motions.

All that changed on the evening of Good Friday. I found myself texting a neighbor and good friend. I casually asked her what she and her husband had planned for the weekend, not even thinking about it being Easter. In fact, I hadn’t planned a menu or bought special holiday foods. I asked because their weekends are special. You see, he’s an over-the-road truck driver, so he’s gone all week, and she’s a nurse who works night shifts. They have little time together, so they try to make the most of what they do have.

They are such a devoted couple, not only to each other, but to family and neighbors as well. They married later in life, and she continued to live with her parents, who actually owned the house across the street. She had cared for her dad until his passing and, more recently, her mom. That meant that she spent more time at her parents’ home than her own, but it was the life they lived. Her mom passed away in January at the age of ninety-four.

Now, back to my question about what they were doing for the weekend. She said they just didn’t know how to do Easter without Mom, so they had planned to just spend it quietly together. This is a family that always made a very big deal about holiday celebrations, and they had invited us to join them in quite a few. So the invitation just rolled right off my tongue….if you’d like to join us for dinner, we’d love to have you. They jumped quickly on board, we hastily made a dinner plan, and just like that, Easter was happening.

We shopped between storms, found that we were missing a few items, and made some arbitrary changes along the way. Ken and I watched Easter morning service online so we could get everything done in time to share with people we care about. Dinner happened in the midst of severe storm warnings and tornado watches, but we just enjoyed our time together. And I thought to myself, this is what Jesus would have wanted. He always took time from his ministry to dine and visit with people who needed a spiritual lift. This year, Easter was about being Jesus to someone else.