Presumably, the class this morning discussed the significance of Jesus’ meal on the beach with the disciples, and our pastor shared yet more insight on the disciple Thomas’s encounter with the risen Christ, which turns up in the Sunday lectionary every year on the second Sunday of Easter.
I confess I don’t know, because we spent the morning with our daughter in W. Lafayette. She had spent the night with us at our hotel, so we slept in a little (for us), breakfasted on oatmeal and scrambled eggs and green bananas in the lobby of the hotel, took her to the nearest pharmacy for allergy medicine, drove around the historic district and looked at buildings, saw where she is going to be living next year assuming everything goes as planned, drank coffee at the little place she likes that she found in one of the buildings on campus “not very far” from visitor parking (by her standards; we had to sit down on a bench once on the way there and once more on the way back), and finally dropped her off at her dorm and headed for home.
“Nothing special.” No profound conversation, no drama, no “this changes everything.” [“This changes everything” was 18 years ago, on her adoption day. Or maybe 20 years ago, when we decided we’d try to make that adoption day happen. Or maybe whenever it was that we made the decision that led on to the decision that led on to that decision … God alone really knows.] These days, just being in the same space feels special enough.
I imagine the disciples felt something similar on that morning on the beach with the Lord … that something as perfectly ordinary as breakfast was wonderful, because they were with this person they loved, and they knew it.