Resurrection Sunday was one of my favorite days ever. After three hours of sleep, I woke up. Rather than trying to go back to sleep, I indulged in pleasure reading, the fourth book of Megan Whalen Turner's The Thief series. I was no where near done by the time I needed to get up to make chili and bread for a potluck. But that was fine. The boys were so handsome in their new spring outfits. Phil finished the milking (not a good day of milking: the calves are not trained to the electric fence, so they eat from the milk cows rather than staying in the herd where we would like them to be, so there was little to drink and one cow peed in the bucket).
When we walked into the gym some minutes before church began, the people leading worship were practically vibrating with joy. It was radiating off the stage. It was a good day to praise the Lord.
Then we went straight to our friends' house, where we stayed for the next six hours or so. So many jokes, so much sharing. We talked about sports and penal substitution, about how culture affects church style, fast food, Bible translations, home buying. It was deeply satisfying to my soul. (And I made my own latte, with coffee with enough ice cream added to make it sweet.)
Caleb ate beef. He liked it the most of any food so far. No sign yet of how well he digested it, if at all.
Back home, Phil had to round up cows. And I had a friend come for three hours to talk and pray.
So that was a day of about twelve hours of fellowship. How awesome is that!
No comments:
Post a Comment