I must confess. On this day, the holiest day of my religion, I used the Lord’s name in vain. I didn’t expect to lose my mind. It started out much like any other holiday. The kids were cheerful. I felt blessed to be able to spend the day with family. We were going to have a delicious Easter dinner, but first had to get ready for church. It was at that moment my children decided to act like wild animals. I’m sure the pound of chocolate they ate for breakfast didn’t help matters. Somewhere in this world a husband jumped up off the couch eager to help. It wasn’t mine. I raced around ironing, brushing teeth and stewing over the fact that my spouse was playing Words With Friends. “Divorce. There is a word,” I said, wiping sweat from my brow. I don’t care that my son thinks Jesus is pronounced Jebus. I don’t care that my daughter sits in church eating crackers while writing on the back of the seat. We were going to be good Christians today. My daughter was running around in a diaper, my 4-year-old was playing hide & seek without a seeker and my 12-year-old was watching his IPod. It was inching toward the start of the service when I went crazier than Pat Robertson in a strip club. “Get your God Damn clothes on!” I’m not sure if it was the cursing or the demonic look in my eyes, but my kids finally listened. Terrified, my husband dropped out of his game giving up the grand prize of…. Nothing. We got there just in time. Hallelujah!
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