It's a quiet Monday morning. I'm still in my robe and pj's nursing a 3rd cup of coffee. The events of the Easter weekend (Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Easter) roared through my mind/heart/body as they have for 32 years. The three services, all distinctly different and often with different attendees, both energize and sap pastors. The preparations for a Thursday meal, eucharist and foot washing requires team logistics. This year, even though the numbers were smaller (32) the energy was rich and tender. Good Friday was a battle for starkness and simplicity: voices, images, songs and darkness. Then Easter Sunday was high energy punch with brass, kids everywhere, egg hunt, food, family gathering, over 500 in attendance...and the baptism of my granddaughter.
So family came (Liz & Jeff the week earlier, stopping by San Diego to see Elise), then Isaac, Anna, Elise and Lily (granddog) and Luke & Kelly. It was a weird and delightful realization of having all children with spouses present. And having Elise in my arms was nothing short of electric. This precious little child held the center of the Johnson family for the whole weekend. Her cries, naps, and alert moments were the dominant signals that defined when we would or would not do things. And then being allowed to baptize my first grandchild was one of the highest privileges I have had as a pastor/father. I officiated at the weddings of all three couples. That is indeed an honor. But then to hold this little life in my hands at the font and to declare the baptismal promise over...whew!
The picture above captures it all for me.