Easter weekend was a delight.
You can thank our friend Jennifer for BOTH of those swimmers!
There was some swimming in the pool … first time for a certain girl in the family, some cookie baking, an Easter Egg hunt at a friends house, Easter Egg dying and nachos eating with good friends, and lots of adventures and drop-bys by some of our favourites.
We enjoyed seeing Easter in the eyes of a two year old. The endless singing of “Hallelujah” which never seemed to get old, despite the constant drumming with loud objects as he “worshipped.” (His words, not ours!) And just yesterday he told us that he was pretending to ride on a donkey like Jesus. I guess those resurrection eggs and story reading actually sunk in somewhere in there.
After Jared and Max’s hike (El and my drive) up Castle Hill for the combined churches sunrise service, we prepared a gigantic brunch feast. I don’t want to be silly by calling our own feast gigantic, but seriously – I panic about two things – the thought of not enough food for our guests, and people not having a family to celebrate holidays with. Despite our last minute additions, I did overcompensate.
As we all sat around the living room, something caught my eye – two of my guests, two men, one of which I had just met, holding hands.
And my heart melted.
One of our guests was a man from PNG, visiting our centre on his way back from some training he’d been doing. He’s pioneering a work in PNG and doing an amazing job. We loved hearing his stories… and that he’s planting banana trees for all the teams of young people we bring through. (I played the role of a good mom and asked him to plant some sweet potatoes, another of their staple diet, so that they don’t just live on sugar their entire time!)
But back to the hand-holding…
In PNG culture, the men often hold hands. In fact, in many places it would be totally inappropriate for Jared and I to touch in public, but the men?! They’re all walking down the street holding hands, or sitting next to each other chatting with a hand on their mate’s inner thigh.
And I loved that it was happening in my living room. What a beautiful picture of culture, what wonderful friends, all brought together by the common understanding and love of this man Jesus… these two men, black and white, holding hands in my living room as we shared and delighted and celebrated the gift of life that comes from Jesus.
Friends, He’s good. Really, really good.