Small resurrections

Easter has always been one of my favorite holidays, especially because I'm big on the idea of resurrection.

As a child, I remember Holy Week as a very quiet time when the world seemed to come to a complete halt, there was no school, no work, no play, no making noises, no laughing out loud. I remember spending the time at my grand-aunt's apartment (my parents must have been traveling), watching movies on TV about Jesus' life. I still remember films that wouldn't show the face of the actor playing Jesus because it was disrespectful! They must all have been Mexican movies, because they were in Spanish. And I loved them all.

Little did I imagine that in 2002 I would have my own personal mini-passion play. It was on a Holy Week seven years ago that I had the surgery that saved my life and made this, my latest and most blessed incarnation, possible.

Because so much has happened since the end of 2008, when my abuelita died, and Rusty left us to run with the wolves in the hereafter, and so much has been piled on top of that in the beginning of 2009, when we all thought my papi would not last long, I wanted to mark this Easter by going to church, something I don't do that often (I'm quite the lapsed Catholic).

So, yesterday, while I was driving back from the big city, after getting my haircut and doing some damage to my credit card by purchasing a pretty print dress for Commencement, I decided I'd like to observe Easter communally, as most Christians do, rather than all by myself (my husband having gone to spend the weekend with his parents).

I toyed with the idea of going to the Catholic church in the nearby town but the thought of being in a group of strangers didn't appeal to me much. I wanted the feel of family, the way Easter should be. After considering several options, it occurred to me that a colleague-friend had said she was going to her Protestant church with her husband and child, so I called her to ask whether she would be willing to take me in as a sort of religious orphan. She was delighted, and mentioned that another colleague-friend, who's a Baptist, might be interested, too.

Early this morning I decked myself up in a chartreuse green suit that I haven't worn in ages, my canary-yellow patent leather pumps, and I picked up our friend on the way to a United Church of Christ ceremony, the three of us from different religious backgrounds but all united today in our desire to celebrate Easter together.

After the ceremony, which was lovely (even though I missed the mystery of the Catholic rituals), we all went for Easter breakfast at a local eatery and pigged out. It was a very nice Easter. The nicest in recent memory. And I think it was because we all came together, like a makeshift family away from real family, like only people whose families are very far away can. Isn't that part of the spirit of Easter after all?

¡Felices Pascuas!