Easter morning was one of those mornings.
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Clint had been up all night with a stomach bug.
I was exhausted.
Jack didn't want to wake up.
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Sydney had a chair fall on her head and bruise her.
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K-Dog wanted to go back to sleep.
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We didn't get any good pictures of anyone (except Jack, the hambone), much less a perfect little family Easter picture.
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But, you see, it
was the perfect Easter.
Because Jesus didn't save us when we looked good. He didn't die on the cross because we were doing anything pretty.
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He died because we were broken, bruised, and in desperate need for a Savior.
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We could do nothing on our own.
And He took on our sins so we could be made perfect.
And that is a wonderful Easter.