Happy Easter, baby girl! I can’t even begin to imagine what the Easter celebration is like in heaven. Do you do paint eggs? Is there a huge meal? Please tell me peeps aren’t allowed in heaven, because… just no. I bet your Grandma pulled together the perfect basket for you to wake up to, full of eggs with little surprises, chocolate, and plenty of the plastic colorful grass for you to get EVERYWHERE.
Sweetheart, it is just so fitting that you would be 13 months old on Easter Sunday.
Many people consider 13 to be unlucky and looking at our story you could say that we should too.
When the words Trisomy 13 entered our vocabulary, our entire world shattered and rearranged in ways we never thought possible. You taught your daddy and me how to love, hope, and live in the face of fear. You taught us that fierce love and deep hope can exist even in the shadow of death.
For us, 13 means hope.
13 means love.
That’s why it brings such a smile to my face that you’re 13 months old on Easter Sunday. Today we remember the ultimate act of love and we rejoice in the hope the resurrection provides.
What a holy and amazing thing it is, Norah, that today you get to hear the resurrection story from the Man Himself. You are now giggling, playing and growing up in the presence of the One who is the embodiment of hope and love.
This long winter hasn’t yet loosened its grip; there were many Easter egg hunts played in snow this weekend. But the days are getting longer, the animals are beginning to stir, and the ground is relaxing as it starts to thaw.
My love, we are so ready for spring.
We are ready for revival.