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Friday, March 30, 2018

Forgiveness at Easter

Moon on Good Friday 30/3/18 by Scotto (with a hand held camera)

We just saved Brienne of Tarth (chief chicken), from the jaws of our German Shepherd. Normally, they get along fine but Brienne must have poked her beak in the middle of his feed bowl while he gobbled his dinner and he clearly resented sharing with a farmyard bird.

She seems okay but now she won’t come out from under the deck and there are white feathers littering the lawn.

Never mind. I’ll be home to watch over them all for the next two weeks because it’s the Easter holidays!

My Stations of the Cross liturgy went well yesterday despite ‘Jesus’ not turning up on the morning. You can only imagine my utter panic and horror at this state of affairs.

I elected another unrehearsed, little boy to get dressed in the Jesus costume, pronto.

“You’ll be fine,” I coerced the trembling child. “You just have to walk around with the cross on your back for a bit and then die on the cross with grave sincerity and a great deal of solemnity. Don’t let me down, or else.”

The stunned little boy gazed at me dubiously then finally nodded in reluctant assent when he saw the desperate look in my pleading eyes.

Thankfully, the real Jesus turned up at the eleventh hour. Not the ‘actual real’ Jesus of course. That would have made a truly excellent Stations of the Cross though. Can you just imagine the kudos I’d get for pulling that out of the bag?

I must admit, this was the best class I’ve ever re-enacted this liturgy with. I screamed and ranted much less than usual during rehearsals and no one was sent to the office for being silly; not even once.

My Jesus didn’t accidentally clock anyone on the head with the cross and the technology didn’t break because I had my beautiful friend and colleague, Kath, operating it for me, as my hands were shaking too much to work the volume knob.

My husband, Scotto and my parents even made the hour long drive out to the school to watch it.

I think this is my seventh time presenting this particular liturgy and I finally nailed it.


I gave my class Easter eggs at the end of the day and someone accidentally left their eggs on the window sill.

Seamus, one of my ‘energetic’ students, spotted the abandoned eggs. “Can I have them, Mrs Poinker?” he asked wistfully, a curious gleam in his eyes.

“No,” I replied. “Go downstairs, Seamus.”

“Please?” he insisted.

“NO! You have your own eggs. Go downstairs and wait for your mother. Whoever owns them will probably be back in a couple of minutes.”

I walked back into the classroom and tidied up. Ten minutes later, I walked out and spied Seamus, still loitering around the window sill, staring longingly at the eggs.

I made him walk downstairs with me. He dragged his feet dramatically the whole way and kept glancing back at the window.

I went into the staffroom and said my goodbyes. As I walked to my car, I observed little Seamus, standing underneath the stairwell and scrutinising the windows in a doleful, forlorn manner.

“No one came for them,” he whispered to me in a sad voice as I swept past him. “No one came back.”

I’m pretty sure that as soon as my car drove away, Seamus snuck back upstairs and nicked the eggs.

But that’s okay. I didn’t care.

By that stage of the day I was like an amoeba reacting to stimuli. My brain was on automatic.

And anyway, Easter is all about forgiveness, don’t you agree?

Let me take this opportunity to wish you and your loved ones a very happy and safe Easter. I'll catch all of you on Facebook on Easter Sunday xxx