Another Mondover

Yesterday was a bit of a busy Easter...I was at church from 7-1, drove home for Easter lunch with the fam, drove back for Easter dinner with my surrogate family, and then drove to the apartment to roll around in stomach-agony of the repercussions of eating 3 incredibly southern, heavy meals. Yikes.
So I have a weekend, non-alcoholic hangover. I'm hung over from the surplus of fried, greasy foods, I'm hung over from lack of sleep, and I feel oddly desensitized.

I have celebrated Easter every year, but I rarely feel extra spiritual on Easter. I feel absolutely desensitized to the idea. I mean I guess it's like any other Christian holiday--sometimes the commercialism/consumerism detracts from the deep, spiritual meaning. I had a couple of moments singing in choir...one of those "Wow" moments, but I'm somewhat disappointed that Jesus' resurrection does not completely baffle me like it does other people.

At church yesterday, a man was surrounded by a fort of family and friends who huddled around him like front-line protection. They reached out to connect each other like a wall, and they reached out to touch him in prayer while he prayed. He was a big, burly man with a cut-off t-shirt, arm tattoos, and one of the kindest faces I've seen. He looked like one of those big Harley men who look completely bad-ass and probably are completely bad-ass but are also extremely nice/thoughtful. He looked like the 'good ol' boy' type. His face was a matriculated cherry bomb, and during prayer he shouted some--this guy was searching so hard for peace and for God. He raised up and that cherry bomb face was absolutely blooming. He looked liked a kid in relief--you know that moment when a little boy finally catches the ball his dad throws him? The man looked like that. That re-visitation of innocence.

I was happy for him, of course. And I suppose I got a little teary--especially because this man went directly to the altar without help. He knew what he needed, he knew where to get it, and he received it independently from God, not from words or the plantation of fear. He sought with a purpose.