I lost Jesus.
We have this beautiful wooden wreath to countdown Lent and Jesus' path to the cross.
I had all kinds of marvelous ideas about how this year celebrating the Resurrection was going to be different.
I wanted for our family to balance out this Christmas/Easter thing.
So many times we've let Easter go by with barely a blip.
We lose Jesus.
We lose Him in the midst of school holidays, chocolate, bunnies, marketing and plans.
My plans got way-laid by trying to finish last year's books, mission trips and going on a vacation.
I didn't even know Jesus was lost until I got back from that vacation because I hadn't even looked for Him yet.
But last week, my girls said what about Easter? We haven't prepared anything. And they were right.
In the past we've celebrated Passover, such a beautiful way to remember...we missed that, it was the same day in the Holy Week when the Pharisees decided that they needed to do something about the Jesus problem, they wanted desperately to lose him.
So my sweet little girl, on her birthday, took down the snowman collection and started digging around. She found the wreath, we put up a more springy looking wall quilt that reminds me that I'm wanting more than just surviving. My husband bought daffodils and an Easter Lily.
We bought some special food, we made plans with Grandpa and Grandma. We attended the Good Friday service which finally started stirring my weary soul into some flame.
And we found Jesus.
She found Him stuffed in the decorating closet and she brought Him out and put Him on the table.
And He died for them, too. He died in my unpreparedness. He rose in my hurry and haste. He came to save all of us, to love us whether we'd lost Him or not.
He found me when I was lost.