Sunday morning, Palm Sunday, and a moment of quiet. The Funk clan, blessed be their name, is out for brunch. Corky and I elected to stay back at the house in the warm silence. We're getting our first good dose of April showers outside.

- - -

This afternoon was the memorial service for Jean Funk, Bruce's mom. I said something like this:

I think the only time time I met Jean was at Bruce's and Shirlee's wedding some thirty years ago. Up until this week the only one of her offspring I knew was Bruce. Now I have met them all. At once. Along with their children and one grandchild and assorted cousins and spouses. They are, every one of them, stark, raving, delightfully, wonderfully nuts.

In the space of three or four days I feel like I've been adopted into the family. Discovering that Bruce's oldest sister, Nancy, like Corky and me, was a 1950 models sealed the deal. We proclaimed it a vintage year.

It has been a very long time since I have felt so thoroughly welcomed.

Thanks you!

To be welcomed is a reason to hope; it is to see God in the face of others.

The ultimate reason for hope is Easter, which we celebrate next Sunday. Our hope stands or falls with the Easter miracle. If Jesus did not rise from the dead that long-ago Sunday morning after being executed the Friday before, then Christianity is a farce, one more dreary religion based on the teachings of a long-dead leader.

Which is why for two thousand years the Easter morning greeting has rung out

Christ is risen!

He is risen indeed!

Dare to hope. Come, join the celebration.

Blessings,

Steve