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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 still believe in the power of  faith and the strength of the eternal metaphor want to be in the front row.

The empty tomb.  Christ has risen!  Indeed. 
This year, were I less cynical, I might find the task easier.

In June the Presbyterian Church U.S.A. agreed to acknowledge the legitimacy of gay marriage by permitting clergy to perform weddings where allowed by the state.

I snorted when I heard the news.   Leave it to my church to be the last of the "main line" Protestants to join the 21st Century.

We're a denomination of followers.  Presbyterians discovered pacifism after the fall of Saigon.  We were the last to open our denominational seminaries to large populations of women.  We discovered "world hunger" in 1979 and formed a task force to chat about it. 
Even so - God help me - when the Presbyterians serve up the sunrise alleluia on Easter Sunday,  if they let me in,  I'll be there.

My faith in all of us brings me through the door.   My hope for some of us keeps me in my seat. 

If you see me on Sunday, do me a favor.  Please - come sit beside me.  I'll be the one wearing a bonnet with all the frills upon it -  and a smile. 

Because I am glad he is risen  - because I believe I might yet live to see the church rise as well.  

Indeed. 

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