Everything about that Easter weekend was strange.
My preschoolers only wanted to listen to Christmas music that Wednesday on the drive home from Toys R Us (remember that place?!??!)
My water broke at midnight.
Instead of thinking about Jesus' last days on earth and all His suffering, I was obsessed with the first hours of my newborn and all my own relief from the labor pains on that very early Thursday morning.
Laying in the hospital that Good Friday, baby boy by my side in that giant plastic pushcart thingy, snow was falling outside my window.
"What kind of upside-down world have I brought this bundle of joy into?" my hormone-laden brain mused.
One where it's snowing on Good Friday?
One where people kill other people for preaching and being love?
Arriving home later that day, I was greeted by my very jumpy first- and second-born.
Kisses and hugs and "be carefuls" went on for hours.
They just couldn't get enough of "their baby."
The snow had stopped by then.
The conversation turned to snacks and Easter Egg hunts and all the "normal" parts of family life.
Saturday, I nursed and slept and wrangled my kids, but the question loomed large.
"What kind of upside-down world have I brought this bundle of joy into?"
One where you push a baby out of your body on a Thursday and are wiping bottoms and filling plastic eggs on Saturday, exhaustion flooding every part of you?
One where new life comes as a 9 pound 13 ounce, blue-eyed, misshapen-head baby and your Savior lays dead in a tomb after cruelty beyond belief?
Easter morning arrived right on time.
After a no-sleep, newborn-feeding night.
After hiding eggs in nooks and crannies all over our tiny home with one hand, while at the same time cradling an infant in the other.
As the sun came up and two littles scampered downstairs, I lay on my couch, bleary-eyed, listening to the shouts of joy over Easter baskets and indoor egg hunts.
"Mommy. I love him." one whispered, kissing "his baby" on the head in between discoveries of yellows and pinks.
"Mommy, Jesus woke up, right?!" the other one shouted while running around with her basket, searching for eggs.
The question pushed its way into the forefront of my foggy mind.
"What kind of upside-down world have I brought this bundle of joy into?"
One where mommies can be physically depleted and emotionally full at the same time?
One where no matter how bad it gets and how hopeless it seems and Saviors seem dead and gone, love wins in the end?
As the Easter morning revelry settled down, I gazed at my bundle of joy, heart exploding with mama love.
I reminded him (and myself) quietly, whispering a mama's love into his tiny, perfectly-formed ear...
"This is why I named you Joshua, the Hebrew name for Jesus.
Because I never want me or you to forget that the world is certainly upside-down, but somehow right-side up all at the same time.
And just by saying your name, we will keep repeating this hope-filled truth over and over and over again...
LOVE WINS!!"
Comments