Easter Reflection

It was a Wednesday and Micah was in kindy for the day. We were a bit early for Max's playgroup, so decided to hop out for roti chanai and nasi lemak. I was holding Max on my lap (no use hording a high chair as he would not sit in for more than 10 minutes unless he has his own food) while grandma and my sister ate at ease. Then my food arrived and I wanted to wash my hands, so grandma held him. When I sat down again grandma let Max off her knees. Almost immediately he wandered off to the old man sitting at the next table. I am sure he had been making funny faces at Max. Now they both exchanged greeting for a few moments before I picked Max up.

Hmmm... So we all let babies invade our personal space. Sometimes we even welcome them.

It made me wonder if that is why the world welcomes Christmas so much more than Easter? Because we welcome Jesus the Baby more than Jesus the Crucified-Resurrected? We see a lot of Nativity scenes at shopping complexes' Christmas displays, but the few that have a note on Easter it is of bunnies and eggs. Ever seen a crucified Christ at display? Empty tombs? Scenes of the Ascension?

Babies invade our personal space. My boys sure do. There is now hardly a room that is successfully marked "Keep Out" since Micah could turn the doorknobs. That was actually the last barrier. He could already pull out drawers and open cupboard doors, even the sliding ones at 18 months. The only way to keep things out of his reach now is to put them high up on a shelf... and even that it is not always successful because he is also a climber, ever ready to carry a stool from the kitchen or a chair from the next room.

Babies invade our personal space. My boys sure do. They play in every room in the house. Max nurses in every room in the house, except the kitchen and bathrooms. They have marked their territories with their toys, books, some pencil markings on the walls and their exploits. Every where you go in this house tells you "Micah/ Max was here!"

Babies invade our personal space. My boys sure do. We often walk around proclaiming their invasions. Our clothes are marked by drool and food smears. We must smell of their sloppy kisses. Our voices ever riddled by exclamation marks of excitement and anxiety. And sometimes the way our hair is done, or undone, tells you of their invasions.

I think anyone of my old school friend see me now will be able to assess that I am a mother. The way I look, the way I talk and what I say. If they have the nose of a dog, I am sure it would include the way I smell... I am a mommy. You can't miss that...

It's Good Friday. This Sunday is Easter.

Jesus is Risen! Lord, please invade my personal space.