Sunday is Coming

The drama started early at our house this morning. Vivi woke up at 5:45 acting like she was starving. And while I was feeding her, I could hear Jonah talking and playing in his room. Seriously, little people? Five a.m. doesn’t really work for me.

Once I got Vivienne settled back to sleep and I made sure Jonah wasn’t going to jump out of bed and attempt a daring escape, I headed back to my room to get ready for the day. I thought I should probably fix my hair and put on a little makeup since I was planning to meet Peter and some of his coworkers for lunch later. On a normal day, I do neither of those things, but a lunch date with the hubby is a rare occasion and therefore requires a little extra effort.

After I was sufficiently presentable, I went to the kitchen to fix breakfast. And by “fix breakfast” I mean throw a few frozen waffles in the toaster oven. No judgments, please. And on a side note, I totally fought against the purchase of that toaster oven but I have to say that it might be one of my favorite appliances in the kitchen. I use it every day for a variety of things, but the best thing that comes out of it is dry toast which gets slathered with Nutella. Yum! Ok, I’m officially sidetracked now…

Back to breakfast. I fixed the waffles and went in to wake my precious firstborn. “Good morning, Brie. Your waffles are on the table,” I said sweetly. Can’t you just hear the sugar in my voice? But lo and behold, you would’ve thought I had cooked pigs feet or cow brain for breakfast. The fit she threw over those waffles! However, I remained semi-calm (meaning I didn’t yell at her), and I strongly recommended that she eat the stupid things. Aye aye aye. So much drama and it wasn’t even 7:00 a.m.

Once the breakfast drama died down and Peter left to take Brie to school, I attempted the impossible – grocery shopping at three different stores with two kids under the age of three. Call me crazy, I know. But I was really hoping to catch all the sales. Somehow we survived the shopping experience and were even able to meet Peter for a relatively peaceful lunch. Hallelujah. The rest of the day was relatively painless – a fun afternoon outside, combined with constant chattering by the nine year old, followed by a tantrum courtesy of the two year old because he didn’t want to take a bath, complete with the sobs of a teething baby. Just a typical day. A Good Friday.

I know I like to joke around about our family drama but the truth is that every other family goes through pretty much the exact same thing as our family.  However, two thousand years ago, the real drama took place. My Savior chose the death of a criminal so that He could save me and anyone else who chooses to believe in Him. He loves us so much. More than even I, as a mom, can comprehend. His incomparable love caused Him to walk purposefully to the cross, knowing exactly what would happen. He allowed the nails to pierce His hands, the crown of thorns to be placed on His head. He could have stopped it. But He didn’t. He died for me. For you.

It was the worst Friday in history. But we don’t have to mourn or be fearful because Jesus is risen. My King is alive. Today may be Friday, but Sunday is coming.

Happy Easter, my friends.

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