Easter

Easter morning was one of those mornings.

Clint had been up all night with a stomach bug.


I was exhausted.


Jack didn't want to wake up.

Sydney had a chair fall on her head and bruise her.

K-Dog wanted to go back to sleep.

We didn't get any good pictures of anyone (except Jack, the hambone), much less a perfect little family Easter picture.

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.

He died because we were broken, bruised, and in desperate need for a Savior.

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.