I’ve always loved Easter. As a child, it represented a general time of joy through community, celebration inundated with pastel colors and pleasant reminders that Spring had finally arrived. Over the years and into adulthood, as I reflected more upon Lent and what the cross meant to me personally, it was a time where my faith was renewed and strengthened. But with the exception of Emma and Olive’s infant baptisms on Easter Sunday in 2009 and 2012, this time of year remained just that - general times of blessing, where nothing significant really stood out. Where no permanent mark was made in my life. Nothing I’d expect to remember for years or decades to come.
That changed last year.