Six Easter Sundays ago, Bobby invited me over to his house for the first time. We had a campout in the living room, complete with a tent, watched The Man Who Planted Trees. I fell asleep (during the movie) and I never left. In the morning we had sourdough pancakes and enjoyed our quiet new life together with a cup of coffee. I cleaned the floors by hand and he cleaned under the range of the oven.

We married five months later.

This morning we unexpectedly had sourdough waffle mix left over which everyone but the twins got a portion of. We had an easter egg hunt, built an outdoor fire, saw a mama hen with 4 baby easter chicks, and are now drying out -I’m in the house making coffee with the twins while one naps and one chews on a chew toy, and Bobby is in the yurt with the older girls building a town out of blocks after roasting some dogs in the rain and watching the cars roll by.

I hadn’t celebrated Easter in some time. When I was a child we always had fancy dresses and fancy hats, went to church and did an egg hunt at home. We celebrated the end of lent by indulging in all our sins and gorging ourselves on candies while obsessing over our looks and gifts.

I’m happy to make new traditions, celebrate God’s forgiveness, and for all that came because I never left.

We went from just the two of us to a family of 6 in 6 years.

Our daughters have all worn the same dress from their Auntie Sarah for their first Easter