Happy Easter! (4 months late)

HAPPY EASTER!

4 months late.

Easter Eve was splendid.

Rachel's friend, Kaitlyn, brought us some Nestle Butterfinger Bunnies because her dad works for Nestle.

Rachel, congratulations on having awesome friends.

Back to Nestle Butterfinger Bunnies...

Nestle Freaking Butterfinger Bunnies.

I love Butterfinger.

Anyway...

I was one happy girl that Easter Eve. Things got a little out of hand.
Then I looked for my Easter basket for about...oh...A HALF HOUR. It was killing me. I had no idea where it was. I even checked all the ridiculous places that the Easter bunny has hidden them in the past like the water softener, the attic, the dryer, and the hole in the ceiling that I can't reach (jerk) just to name a few. Finally, my mom suggested that I clean up some stuff that was gathered up against the wall. I told her I'd do it as soon as I found my Easter basket. Well, it turns out that it was hidden where that pile of stuff was...as seen below.

I couldn't believe it. Do you know how many times I walked past this pile of junk? Probably about 20,843,948,572,120,938,562,778,012,986,561,820,398,675.5 times. Ridiculous.

Ugh. I was furious.

But in the end, it was all worth it because of these precious little beauties. :]

Oh, and let's not forget how my mom made us cinnamon rolls for breakfast. DELICIOUS.

Yeah, they were HUGE.

I love Easter.

I know some people say it's wrong to have a favorite apostle, but the other day at lunch, some ladies and I were discussing how Christ changed John's name to "John the Beloved," so it's completely legit. Anyway, Elder Holland is my favorite. His conference talk in April was one of my favorites. In the 4-month-late spirit of Easter, I've included my favorite part of his talk below:

"Thus, of divine necessity, the supporting circle around Jesus gets smaller and smaller and smaller, giving significance to Matthew’s words: “All the disciples [left] him, and fled.” Peter stayed near enough to be recognized and confronted. John stood at the foot of the cross with Jesus’s mother. Especially and always the blessed women in the Savior’s life stayed as close to Him as they could. But essentially His lonely journey back to His Father continued without comfort or companionship.

Now I speak very carefully, even reverently, of what may have been the most difficult moment in all of this solitary journey to Atonement. I speak of those final moments for which Jesus must have been preparedintellectually and physically but which He may not have fully anticipated emotionally and spiritually—that concluding descent into the paralyzing despair of divine withdrawal when He cries in ultimate loneliness, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”

The loss of mortal support He had anticipated, but apparently He had not comprehended this. Had He not said to His disciples, “Behold, the hour … is now come, that ye shall be scattered, every man to his own, and shall leave me alone: and yet I am not alone, because the Father is with me” and “The Father hath not left me alone; for I do always those things that please him”?

With all the conviction of my soul I testify that He did please His Father perfectly and that a perfect Father did not forsake His Son in that hour. Indeed, it is my personal belief that in all of Christ’s mortal ministry the Father may never have been closer to His Son than in these agonizing final moments of suffering. Nevertheless, that the supreme sacrifice of His Son might be as complete as it was voluntary and solitary, the Father briefly withdrew from Jesus the comfort of His Spirit, the support of His personal presence. It was required, indeed it was central to the significance of the Atonement, that this perfect Son who had never spoken ill nor done wrong nor touched an unclean thing had to know how the rest of humankind—us, all of us—would feel when we did commit such sins. For His Atonement to be infinite and eternal, He had to feel what it was like to die not only physically but spiritually, to sense what it was like to have the divine Spirit withdraw, leaving one feeling totally, abjectly, hopelessly alone.

But Jesus held on. He pressed on. The goodness in Him allowed faith to triumph even in a state of complete anguish. The trust He lived by told Him in spite of His feelings that divine compassion is never absent, that God is always faithful, that He never flees nor fails us. When the uttermost farthing had then been paid, when Christ’s determination to be faithful was as obvious as it was utterly invincible, finally and mercifully, it was “finished.” Against all odds and with none to help or uphold Him, Jesus of Nazareth, the living Son of the living God, restored physical life where death had held sway and brought joyful, spiritual redemption out of sin, hellish darkness, and despair. With faith in the God He knew was there, He could say in triumph, “Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit.”"

I echo Elder Holland's words. We are never alone. No matter how bad things seem to get, the Lord will not forsake us. If we are ever in need, we can pray and receive comfort. He always answers our prayers.

Since I forgot to include a "Picture of the Day" on my last post, I've included 2 today.

Please excuse the excessive whiteness of my body.

This is me running at our home cross-country course, "Chinquapin Ridge." I can't remember what race this is--County, maybe?. My hair is pretty sweet, huh? This is me, my dad, and Robbie at the Oakland Temple years ago. I don't know how old I am in this picture--probably about 4? I'm not sure.

P.S. We're really cute. :]