On Saturday, my mom, my mother-in-law, my grandma and I went to Macy’s downtown to see their spring flower display. It was pretty, though not quite in full bloom. But the four of us shared lunch in the Skyroom after we saw the flowers and I just can’t get over how fortunate I am to have these women as my greatest role models and loudest supporters. It was a treasured morning for me.
PYSANKI Easter Eggs!
Oh man, do I have a favorite Easter tradition joining my world of traditions. I already cannot wait for next year. Last year Lisa had Sara and I over for a ladies afternoon of Ukrainian Egg dying, known as Pysanki. Lisa is Polish and Ukrainian so to learn from her is really incredible. So this year I wrote her an email that said, “I’d like to invite myself over for more egg dying (as well as my mom and my grandma)” She wasn’t going to get all the gear out this year, but I am so THANKFUL that she did:
When we showed up, we each had a station (Rory took Grandma’s place) and 14 colors of dye to choose from.
We began by drawing with pencil on our blown eggs, then adding bee’s wax with a special tool to draw on our eggs, and would dye the egg in the next color. This is horribly hard to explain (I’ve tried all weekend) but something you MUST try to experience one day.
Lisa got us babushka’s for our hair! Don’t we fit the part?!! She is the master teacher…honestly, I think she could offer this for the month before Easter and make some money next year! It’s a hard art form to teach, but she was so patient and made a killer lunch with aged provolone! :)
It was a phenomenal morning and afternoon. And we left evidence that we had been there…
I always say there are three words that describe Lisa Groves: Above and Beyond.
I love being her sister.
He is Risen!
In praise of love that still abounds:
"Christ has triumphed! He is living!"
Sing, choirs of angels, loud and clear!
Repeat their song of glory here:
"Christ has triumped! Christ has trumped Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!"
Now All the Vault of Heaven Resounds, by Paul Strodach
Good Friday
For this thy dying sorrow, Thy pity without end?
Oh, make me thine forever,
And should I fainting be,
Lord, let me never, never Out-live my love to thee.
Oh sacred head now wounded, by Bernard of Clarvaux