2. Read in the Washingtonian that the Easter sunrise service at the Lincoln Memorial should be on everyone’s DC bucket list. As a devout reader of the Washingtonian, decide to skip the brunch and enlist all your traditional brunch invitees to join you at the sunrise service, whereafter you will have a simple picnic breakfast of your favorite breakfast food, McDonalds Egg McGriddles.
3. Three days out, call an audible, give in to your true nature, text everyone and say you will just be having a casual breakfast following the sunrise service, preceding the regular church service that you absolutely can’t miss because ORGAN and LITURGY and EASTER in all its lily-filled glory.
4. Spend all of Saturday hoping people will bail for the sunrise service so that you can just sleep in. They won’t.
5. Assemble monkey bread the night before so that Christ is not the only thing to have risen Easter morning. (Too far? Yes? No? Maybe?)
5. Drag sleepy-eyed self from bed at 5:30 am and head to the Mall. So many people share in your sunrise fervor, that it will take 30 minutes and a mad dash to park and walk.
6. Sing about our risen Lord as the sun rises over the horizon and think, maybe, just maybe this was a good idea after all.
7. Repeat lengthy trek back to car and home to start throwing together brunch/ breakfast. Congratulate yourself on getting in almost all your Fitbit steps before 8 am, but know that this will in no way offset the day of tasty treats that awaits you.
8. Know that you will not achieve style perfection. There are not enough chairs, so you drag an arm chair close to the table. There are not enough matching cloth napkins, so you use all the ones you have, in every color, topped with plastic Easter eggs. Scribble “He is Risen!” on those chalkboards from your wedding that still lie around. Last year might have been all bunting and flowers, but this year the theme is “Let’s actually move Hannah’s studying and grading off the table and see what happens.”
9. Though your kitchen is the size of an Ikea couch, let everyone in there, flipping bacon, mixing eggs, washing berries. Keep one person in the hall on a chair, as the smoke detector will go off no fewer than 6 times. Just keep making bacon. There is no time for frittata, no patience for stratta. You will not look like the classy and composed hostess, because you’ve been up since 5:15 and still haven’t done your hair, put on makeup, or gotten dressed. But you just don’t even care because you’ve been throwing back Reese’s eggs all morning long.
10. Hand people mimosas as they alternate in and out of the shoe-boxed sized bathroom, curling hair, tying ties, changing clothes — everyone trying not to look like they woke up long before the dawn.
11. Gather around that tiny table, with its lack of decor scheme and hodgepodge napkins, and thank the Lord for stepping in and changing the course of human history.
12. Eat. Throw on the Easter dress that you wear every single year. Scatter. Service numero dos. Belt out those Hallelujahs with all you’ve got.
13. Find someone who is hosting a potluck for lunch and be the mooch who doesn’t even contribute. Eat the mac n’ cheese with no shame.
14. Stumble home in a coma of candy and barbeque. Glance briefly around the destroyed kitchen before hitting the bed for a long Easter nap. Do the dishes in waves throughout the afternoon, punctuated with more Reese’s eggs and the last crumbs of the monkey bread.
15. Rest content in the knowledge that yours was a perfect Easter brunch. It was not a Pinterest party. It will not be emulated and admired the internet over. But even in a lack of highly coordinated decor, in the absence of impressive menus, even in the presence of a bunch of exhausted and wrinkly-clothed friends, Christ is risen.
How about you all, how did you celebrate Easter?