When I was a child Easter was bound up with the bright newness of spring, of crocuses and pussy willows in the backyard, of unseen things like fairies and angels, of magnolia trees and singing birds, bright sunshine and rain, of colored eggs and stained glass and chocolate bunnies, of a new dress, beribboned bonnet and white gloves. And, my heart understood it with childlike ease:

"Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth; shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert . . . I, even I, am he that blotteth out thy transgressions for mine own sake, and will not remember thy sins." (from Isaiah 43)

A lot has changed since then. Everything has become more complicated. I've grown up. I've read theology and learned about religion. I've lost my close proximity to the ground where ants and ladybugs climb over shiny pebbles and soft blades of grass. I've grown upward, yes, but the sky is still far, far above me, and I am stuck in an inbetween place where there is 'nothing new under the sun'. The older I get the harder it is to be truly amazed.

Yesterday,  Easter Sunday, I came across a blue-speckled field. "Oh, violets," I thought and pulled the car to the side of the road so the girls and I could pick some. Only they weren't violets. They were little, blue, six petaled flowers that I had never before seen. We picked a bunch and brought them home to press between the pages of an old book. And, I had fun looking them up and identifying them as: "Glories of the Snow".

Pretty wonderful. ♥

The fresh fruit tart that my girls made for Easter dessert was also pretty wonderful.

Watching a muscular, athletic, young dog be as gentle as a lamb with his favorite boy is wonderful.

And this cactus, that bloomed continuously from Thanksgiving to Easter, is most indeedly wonderful:

 I snapped this photo of the very last blossom just this morning.

What has filled you with the joy of wonder lately?