Mystery of Easter

I’m not what most people would refer to as wildly religious. I typically swear a fair amount, for instance, and have a few similar flaws that aren’t the kinds of things most people would feel comfortable sporting in church. Still, I make my efforts toward having a spiritual life. This year, I’d secretly hoped to have a meaningful Easter, which are the best kind to have.

This morning, at about 9:30, over pancakes (for mom and dad) and pureed apples and oatmeal (for baby), I saw Easter in my daughter’s eyes. Her eyes are bright every day, but the light in them this morning was an Easter light. And for some crazy reason it was the last place I thought I’d find it. I guess that’s why they call mysteries mysteries.