I’d say the Easter bunny came for a visit yesterday, but that would be a lie of epic proportions. We did, however, force sugar and chocolate (though minimal) on O and Ro for probably the third time in their lives. And then there was the presence of pink bunny ears. I’m all about that junk. Dress ’em alike and then dress ’em up, too, so they’ll really be embarrassed to bring beaus home in the future. Always thinking ahead here.



It was our best Easter to date, and not simply because these two Buttercups are rounding out our family–although tulle and chocolate-stained faces are a good look for them. No, this Easter was so great because we’re part of such a rad church. Ever think when you were growing up that you would talk over and over again about how awesome your church is while doodling in the hymn book you snatched from the back of the pew during Christmas Eve service while the adults droned on and on about sheep and goats baa-ing at Baby Jesus? No? What’s wrong with you?!

I could go on and on about how gifted the staff and congregation at our church are, how talented–which they all are. But what they really are is honest. Honest about God. Honest about their shortcomings. Honest about how broken humanity is. Honest about how much we need someone to Rescue us. Honest about the Rescuer. Honest about what it means to live like someone who’s been Rescued. Honest about how we can’t really live this life without other people beside us. There is no bravado because there is nothing to boast about but Christ. No gifts. Now power. No wisdom aside from what is God-inspired.

What gifts they do have only help me to remember who I actually am, what I was actually made for:

Awake my soul,

Awake my soul,

Awake my soul,

You were made to meet your Maker.

–Mumford and Sons

All that said, I am absurdly optimistic that O and Ro will not find themselves in the same predicament come Christmas Eve or any other service. And no, not because our church doesn’t have pews. It’s not that I take pride in believing that my church is better than everyone else’s. I just know I’ve found the right church for me (not that “the church” is a place you frequent with help of copious amounts of caffeine come Sunday morning, but rather something you are a part of;). A rad one at that.

My hope for everyone else out there is that they find their own rad church.