This is not how I want things to be, but it is how things are, and I do not feel guilty. There is no condemnation for those in Jesus, and for once, I feel that freedom. But I am not unaware of Easter, and its central importance in my life. It is all around me.
I understand joy as we pass around the downy-headed, chubby-cheeked baby, each of us prouder than the last.
I believe in hope because I see my brother kiss his wife, see the kids climb all over them, hear laughter.
I see faith in the way my parents still choose to turn towards each other, thirty-seven years after making their vows.
I experience grace, over and over, from the brother who refrains from beating me up each time I call him the baby, from these hearts that know my ugly, selfish ways better than anyone.
This is love. This is life.
This is Easter morning, the kingdom of heaven making its way into our family.