My darling husband works second shift. This suits our situation perfectly, given the age of our child. Aaron has Fridays and Saturdays off. We did this by design. Most of the year, the "Lord's day" is just another day and given my husband's irrational rage over Sunday retail hours, it is best that he is safely at work on this day of rest. So, when Easter Sunday comes around, I must take myself and our precious heathen bundle to his family's Jesus festivities without him. My mother-in-law drives us and we park on the street to facilitate a speedy getaway. I love all the Christian holidays and take special joy in reminding people that Christmas trees and the Easter Bunny are actually expressions of Pagan tradition. It also allows to me buy a lot of chocolate in the name of the goddess or the rebirth of Spring or whatever. Aaron's family is decidedly, blandly Christian. They are mostly the kind of people who go because "you're supposed to", like registering for Selective Service or filing city taxes. Uncle David is the joyful exception to this rule. He is giddy for Jesus and why shouldn't he be. He's wealthy, he's a surgeon, he lives in his Mini Mansion in a development that used to be a huge family farm. At Christmas, he's happy, but at Easter he busts out the button. I call Aaron at work and challenge him about David's button. Where did he wear it? Was it on straight? Did he bring it up in conversation? It has never failed to appear at Easter Dinner. It is a small slogan pin, with a rainbow and the phrase He Is Risen. The first time I saw it, I didn't think much of it. Maybe they handed them out at services? I don't pretend to know what kind of ritual takes place in church on Easter. When the pin reappeared the following year, I knew that I finally had a reason to get out of bed on resurrection day. This year, the button was squarely on the pocket of his shirt, no funny business. In the past, it has been comically askew or randomly placed, leading me to believe that he puts it on in the dark. It is always the same button. Aaron has speculated that every Easter it is lovely removed from a glass case and then returned again at sundown for safe keeping. I would be really disappointed if I were to discover that his church does hand out the same buttons every year and that he simply tosses the pin in the trash at the end of the day. This Easter, David managed to incorporate his button into an innocent conversation with his one year old granddaughter. She's probably the only person who listens to him. 
*This blog partially inspired by the Minnesota Matron.
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