Sixteen years ago I woke on Easter morning when the phone rang. It was E calling to tell me my dad was gone to live forever in Heaven. I could hear the love, pain, and tears in her voice. They had a beautiful marriage and an wonderful love for each other.

I spent the next week at their house helping with arrangements and supporting her.

For years I’d call every Easter morning to reminisce about Dad and comfort her.

She no longer remembers. We no longer share stories of his humor and kindness. She doesn’t remember any to share.

Some day I may not remember either.

But our Heavenly Father remembers. He knew us before we were formed in our mothers’ wombs. He chose us before the foundation of the world.

I may not be in church most Sunday mornings because I’m home with her. But I choose to celebrate the resurrection of the One who chose me.

Happy Resurrection Day, my friends.