Why not? I don't get tired of the blooms. Maybe you won't either.

We have four dogwood trees in our backyard, each one with different color of blooms from the others. Each spring as the trees grow and mature, the blooms get more and more numerous. It is pure joy to sit on the deck and overlook the show. I have hundreds of photos of these trees, taken at all times of the day, with different angles, and different lenses. And I never seem to capture the essence of the the tree. Elusive beauty.

The first mention of crocheted doilies is about 200 years ago. And when thread was mercerized in the 1840's the craft became popular with strengthened thread. Doilies were placed on furniture to protect the wooden surface, and used under dinner and dessert plates much like chargers today. They appeared on upholstered chair backs to protect the fabric from men's oil hair products. We have friends that collect antique doilies. It's important to know that it's homemade doilies that are collectible. And how does one determine that the doily is handmade rather than made by a machine? Handmade doilies have imperfections: stitches that were missed or a difference in tension in the loops. Handmade doilies are imperfect but the best. Could be a lesson about our lives as well.

No, I didn't take this photo. I suspect it is from 1956, in front of my grandmother Wolf's house in Peru, Indiana. This week my sister was reminiscing about Easter celebrations with our grandparents. Here we are with Easter baskets, although I notice my brother, Steve, doesn't have one. Next to him is my cousin Nancy, who shared the blond hair coloring of my brother and me. And next to me is my sister, Patsy, who is 2 years younger than me. And that's me on the right. Where did all that hair go? And why didn't I stick with bowties? Clearly my style! 

When we were children, we didn't know about the true reason for the Easter celebration. I thought it was all about jelly beans, chocolate, and new clothes. But we are no longer children. And as my sister said this week that although we can't be together nor worship with our congregations, it's all about Jesus. Christ is risen! Alleluia! Those kids have something to smile about, indeed!

We have never experienced an Easter weekend like this before. Churches are closed, millions are unemployed, and thousands are dead. Grief is so very real as it must have been that first weekend. Whatever the mission of Jesus had meant to his followers, his death plunged them into the depths of despair to the point of hiding behind closed doors. At that point, they didn't know about the hope that would cause them to spread the news of resurrection around the world. May we find reasons to help us leave the present grief behind.

Good Friday. The Gospel lesson includes 2 long chapters, John 18 and 19, describing the events of the arrest of Jesus, "trial", and crucifixion. This year I was struck by words at the beginning of the lesson. "After he said these things, Jesus went out with his disciples and crossed over to the other side of the Kidron Valley. He and his disciples entered a garden there. Judas, his betrayer, also knew the place because Jesus often gathered there with his disciples." So it was a familiar place, loved by Jesus and probably his followers. Was it a place of respite, restoration? Was the experience of going there like that of mine retreating into my backyard, surrounded by the singing of birds and reveling in the blooms of every plant? Was it a spiritually nourishing place? Was it one of the "thin places" where heaven and earth are barely separated and the spirit is loosened?

And then what did it become, a place of conflict, confrontation, treason, disappointment, deception, sorrow?

Judy's brother, Ted, gave us these wild bluebells years ago. She remembers having them in Springfield, and Galesburg, and Metropolis, and Murphysboro, and possibly even before when we lived in Benton. So that means that these bluebells have been part of our spring wonder every year for nearly 30 years. It is so good to have them in our garden and to remember Ted and how he loved wildflowers. Aren't we blessed by the love of family and friends?

Today is Maundy Thursday. And part of our Holy Week observance has been to gather and remember and share in the Lord's Supper. We can't be in the sanctuary this year but the observance is no less real. And we remember.

Weary of staying home. Tired of not being with family. Disappointed to not have friends be with us at the Hideaway. Looking for photos in the yard. And filled with joy yesterday morning to find opportunities galore yesterday for photography. But I will be glad when touching is allowed.