Friday through Sunday are a confusion of symbols and images, a muddle of the tomb, the cross, fire, candles, painted eggs, dusk and dawning, blooming and dancing and song. Right now, I'm making quiche for tomorrow's service at Lydia's, staring out the window, and working to pull a sermon out of a very holy mess.
The kids at First Presbyterian must have dyed forty flats of eggs this morning?
Also, let's not forget the cupcakes.
My Easter sermon, deconstructed. Or maybe pre-constructed...
There's something about fire escapes that I find inherently pleasing.
Quiche in my kitchen.
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