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Easter Weekend at the Lake


On this Easter Sunday, I’m thinking of my mom.

I grew up in a large family.  7 kids.  And, every Sunday, we’d head to Mass. Like clockwork.  It was no small thing getting seven small ones dressed and ready and out the door in time for Mass.  The station wagon was packed. My dad would drive.

Every Sunday.

On Easter Sunday’s, the Easter Bunny would secretly arrive over night, leaving loads of chocolate and pastel coloured eggs.  Breakfast would be had, some (not all!) chocolate would be consumed, and then, off to Mass we’d go.  I remember we girls were dressed in straw hats with pastel coloured grosgrain ribbons especially for the occasion.

I loved the Mass.  The mystery.  The silence.  The communion.  For me, a sense of connection to God was nurtured.  Through the Mass, and our nightly prayers at bedtime, prayer was born.

I didn’t like the fact that women couldn’t be priests.  I was struck by this from a very early age.  That the apostles were all men, I found this challenging.  Who would be my role model for the walk with God, for the practice of faith.  I struggled with this even as a youngster. My spiritual life was nourished, but, over time, my religious life faltered.

It’s been many years now since I attended Mass.  I call myself a lapsed Catholic, because there’s something about growing up Catholic that stays with me. And, there is something about the Mass that stays in my bones.  I attended, literally, hundreds of Masses over the years. I’m sure I could still recite the liturgy.  There was a gift in it for me, for which I am grateful. But, my beliefs have outgrown the confines of the Church.

So, on this Easter Sunday, I will head to the Lake.  I will seek out silence.  I will enter into the mystery of the presence of God in my own way. (And, I will, no doubt, consume some chocolate!)

I will also think of my mom, who ensured we got to Mass every week.  She doesn’t attend Mass these days either. Her beliefs have also grown beyond the walls of the religion, too.  But, she opened the door to the idea of God for me, to the mystery of spirit.  To the gift of prayer.  For all of these things, I am so grateful.

On this day, I’m wishing you joy and peace in whatever you are celebrating, and in whatever way.  Blessings.


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