Sitting in our home on Easter Eve, it felt anything but peaceful. My four-year-old missed the memo that we were going to read the Easter Vigil readings (since we couldn’t go in person) and then have a joyful egg hunt once the sun went down—once it was officially Easter. The joy of Easter finally coming was diminished by screaming and moping. We ended the evening with anything but joy. Instead of happy anticipation of our Lord, I was dreading making it through a long Mass the next day. So, I packed guilt on top of my frustration.
A week later, we were back at school (our farm school in Greenville), and it was morning prayer time. The kids were singing, “Jesus Christ Has Risen Today”—very off-key. My son was sitting on my lap trying to tickle my arm, and I was gazing out at the field, watching the wind rustle the leaves on the tree. All of the adults suppressed smiles at the kids not being able to get the tune for the song right. The kids did not sound like a well put-together choir, but the happiness on their faces could not be hidden. They all smiled as they sang on that beautiful morning, and I finally felt Easter peace wash over me, too.
It came not in a moment when I was in a beautifully decorated church with a full-practiced choir singing (accompanied by a loud drum that caused my six-year-old on Easter morning to leave the church crying). Not in a moment when my kids were all sitting peacefully on the couch while their dad read from the Bible. The more I grow in my faith, the more I see God making himself known in moments I least expect. It’s easy to “feel him” in quiet or religious moments in the church like during the Easter Mass. It’s harder in moments when things are not going right. But maybe that’s when we most need to be listening.
