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Showing posts from March, 2015

Christ is risen - how about you?

Except for a haphazard egg hunt and the occasional brunch at W.A. Frost, no one in my family celebrates Easter.  My grown daughters are self-confessed atheists.  My ex-husband spends  Sunday at Caribou with the New York Times.  My brothers and most of my cousins believe this life -  this  insignificant flirtation with eternity - this is it.   And I have a hard time talking anyone into anything anymore. Church people don’t make my work easier.   Congregations are populated with adorable couples chatting  about gluten-free recipes, the best Door County bed and breakfast or their last siting of Garrison and his darling wife.  Remind me - her name? I kid you not. This is what Presbyterians do for fun. A gluten-free ham dinner anyone?  So, here am I, facing the Big One again.  On my own. The Resurrection. The Sunday for which all other Sundays were made. Christ is risen  ( the Anglicans tell us he is risen “indeed.” I always giggle when I hear it)  and those of us who