Happy Easter!

The dishwasher is humming in the background. It's a sound I love because, first, if I can hear it, it means kids are tucked tightly in bed, and, second, it means the dishes are done. And there were piles of them tonight, stacked up from the breakfast casserole and cinnamon rolls of this morning and from the 98 rolls I made for Primary and Easter dinner. Luckily, we pretty much just showed up at Vickie and Ron's for Easter dinner, rolls and green salad in hand, and were treated to lots of deliciousness with hardly any effort on our part.

It was a good--and typical--Easter, full of hunting for baskets in the morning

and eggs

The aftermath of the egg hunt in H's chair.

and new clothes



and enjoying the company of family.

And, thankfully, full of talk of our Savior. Because when it comes down to it, if we did not have Him and His Atonement and Resurrection, none of the rest of it would matter.

Poem of the Month:

Death Be Not Proud

Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not soe,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill mee.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die. 

John Donne