Easter is the day out of the year when those who believe that Jesus is risen are supposed to rejoice the most. Because what can top God himself overcoming death so that we too will live in his kingdom come where there will be no more tears and no more sorrow? Sounds pretty good to me. And yet, I spent the entirety of Easter Sunday feeling like crap....a word, by the way, I drop in front of Manny several times a day. This will come back to haunt me, I'm sure. He has yet to have a first word. Any bets on crap?
On Friday, Aslan had a big, clumsy dog moment that resulted in Manny looking like he was beat up at the local pub for macking on someone's girlfriend. I am quite upset about the whole thing and have been treating the dog with a lot of disdain, despite my more honorable intentions, which only results in my feeling worse because Aslan is the king of the pitiful, misunderstood dog look. Usually, I can walk away unscathed because I feel undeserving of his guilt trips. This time, I know that I am causing them. It stinks.
So Manny cried/screamed (his new favorite combination) much of the day and about 1:30, I decided to try it too. If you can't beat him, join him! Poor Sam. Just trying to be Switzerland in the whole democratic mess.
But I guess that's the wonder of Easter. That God loves me despite the fact that my internal monologue can be nothing but profanity and mental self-flagellation for an entire day. In the same way that I love Manny even though he is really giving me a run for my money and this scream/crying is eroding my maternal resolve like Niagra Falls on a mountain of sand. Maybe it's good to have a crappy Easter once in a while. Because it's not about how I feel. It's about what was, what is, and what is to come. Hallejuah.