golden eggs and kissed hands


I love the crazy-wonderful golden hue on these Easter eggs made by me and my pal Steve.  We were shopping for lunch one day and found ourselves standing in the Easter section of the grocery store. Who knew you could buy egg dye which had a golden hue? Yay!

We made a huge mess and were so proud of ourselves when our basket was full of golden eggs which screamed “He is Risen!” (and “We are fabulous artists of egg!”)

The thing about friendship is that life among our friends results in a combined effort of joy which can be hard to muster alone or among people who are impressed with us or among people who put up with us or use us.  Real friends love me and tell me they do. They lend me courage to go past the conventional.  Friends reflect my love back to me.  Friends tell me I can when I think I can’t. Friends wink at me when I do that thing I always do, but which they understand and forgive without being asked. Friends seem to be able to take the whole world into their hands and turn it just enough so that my perspective changes.

I have friends who tell me that God is not my friend and that neither is Jesus.  And I get the Mysterium Tremendum they are working so hard to maintain or create. But I can hear God giggling behind us which always seems so unfair because when I laugh as a result, I am the one who gets in trouble if they can’t hear God giggling.

I don’t need a God who breathes fire and instills Oz-ian fear.  I need God to show up in my friends – as God does so beautifully and so often – so that when they look into my eyes, lean over to kiss my hand and then tell me that I am wonderful; as some recently did, I am reminded that I am Beloved and that extravagant eggs or ok.  Perhaps even wonderful.

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