Y’know what I want today? To be tying a giNORMOUS satin bow on the back of a pretty little dress. I wanna straighten a teeny-tiny bow tie, aid itty-bitty fingers attempting to re-buckle a Mary Jane. I wish I could sneak a jelly bean ALMOST unseen from a plate in the fellowship hall, only to be met with a stern look and a stuck-out lip, a shrill tattle to somebody’s momma that Uncle Jamie stole some Easter candy, me lookin’ all put-on innocent while pleadin’ ignorance from horrendously inaccurate accusation, evidence gummed between my teeth.
I’d love to hear the clomping thunder of new-shoe-squeezed feet up the carpeted stairs at The Creek, hear ‘em clip-clop across the hardwood as basket-swingers spit-shined, slicked, and be-frocked within an inch of life go lookin’ for Momma 'n Diddy, chubby fists and angel faces smeared in treats they got in Sunday School, clutching a crumpled coloring paper of the stone rolled away—a sticker of cross, lily, or Son in the corner.
On this beautiful, blessed Easter Sunday, I want Pop to tilt his head back—bifocals, don’tcha know—to scrutinize the knot in my tie, pull my collar down over my silken noose, brush my shoulders when he’s finished; turn me around, pat my chest, mention something about how broad and strong it is, tell me how proud he is of me, then fall quiet as he gets a little wet-eyed, clears his throat, then goes off on his never-ending search for the coffee cup that refuses to stay where he left it.
I’m grateful to be in a plane crossing Canada this Easter morning. I love my job, couldn’t be prouder of the group of men with whom I get to share a stage, a van, a row, or a song. But on days like today, I know there’s someplace else I’d love to be, too.
Wishing all of you a brilliant Easter and a wonderful holiday weekend.
Love y’all.