A beautiful waterfall at the side of H138

Happy Easter Sunday!

My parents were ministers as I was growing up so a lot of my time surrounding this weekend was spent in church.  I had a unique ability to tune out sermons from both my mom and dad.  As a twelve year old in Winnipeg, I even distracted others from their message… I distinctly remember getting a discerning eye from my father after I had made people around me in the pews laugh out loud while he was speaking.  If I had my time back, I think I would have tried harder to listen to those sermons from my parents, for many reasons.  But obviously Easter weekend holds particular significance in the church.  It was an important time of year for my family – not only within the sanctuary of the church, but at home as well.

A cargo ship in the distance on the St. Lawrence

Thankfully I had parents who, though much of the weekend revolved around church, were kind enough to include an Easter egg hunt in the house!  It was always an exciting time, but this particular year, when I was twelve, it included gifts for both me and my sisters aside from the chocolates hidden between the cushions of the couch.  I remember my dad handing me my gift.  It was my first baseball bat.  I loved baseball and, at least in my memory, I was on the verge of tears when my dad handed the bat to me.  And 20 years later as I look back, I sense the significance of that gift which I still have buried in my basement.  Sure, I loved that baseball bat and I used it every day to play box baseball in the park across the street with my good friend.  But it was a bat that signified time with my dad outside.  He would hit me fly balls with that bat so I could practice my catches – I was an aspiring outfielder.  He would drag me out to the front lawn after dinner to play catch for 20 minutes.  This was a man who was deeply committed to his work as well as pursuing a doctoral degree.  But he made time to play catch with his son in the front yard.  On Easter Sunday, after a well-prepared service was given, adult conversations were had in the lobby and eventually, the doors were locked to the church and we were able to go home, my dad made time to play baseball with me… outside.

On this Easter weekend, I wish for the world I could be with my family, throwing the baseball around in the backyard one more time.  I think of them and my many memories outside as I run along the banks of the St. Lawrence.