Day number? Well, I’ve lost count.

“What should we tackle today?" says my husband whose back is still tweaked from endless painting projects. My growling stomach signals what to do first—German pancakes.

As soon as my mind conjures up those two words, I’m instantly transformed into my 11-year-old self walking with my friend Jill the three blocks to Geneva Carlburg’s Victorian house (which, by the way, is still standing in this tear-down neighborhood) on a Saturday morning.

She greets us at the front door, inviting us down the long hall. A glimspe to the left, and we see her husband asleep in an easy chair in the living room. We continue into the room where good things happen—the kitchen.

Ingredients ready on her counter. Mrs. Carlburg guides us in how to make the perfect German pancake. She places the pan with butter in the hot oven. As we mix the batter she talks, we listen, we answer. The specifics I have no recollection, but her smile and love are so evident.

We pour the batter into the sizzling pan and immediately put it back in the oven with a stern warning not to open the door for 15 minutes. Our heads touching, Jill and I peer into the small oven window, mesmerized as the batter begins to puff around the edges, butter pooling in the center until it, too, raises itself like a perfect marshmallow on an open fire, browning with no char.

You must act quickly if you want to post your pancake on Instagram since leaving it in the hot oven causes instant deflating. Of course, back then, there were no pictures taken. Instead, a table set, prayer given, mangia. Eat.

This ritual was repeated many times, the consistency welcome, never griddle cakes, waffles or crepes. God’s love poured out on two little girls of divorce by a godly woman who felt led to do so. Our departing gift each time, beautifully calligraphied verses on crinkly vellum, fit into a paper frame. (I’m sure to find them this week as I go through old boxes)

Today, as I watched the batter rise, I wasn’t craving Alton Brown to scientifically explain how this thin liquid burst into action. Instead I metaphorically saw how God put people in my life at just the right time, again and again. Maybe a German pancake doesn’t bring you to awesome tears, but there’s a food, a song or an event that no doubt triggers your heart.

And this pandemic comes with its fair share of triggers to your heart and to the hearts of those you love. But, Easter is coming and what we do this Easter is essential. Find a way to share God's love, think outside the box. Your traditions are still viable with minor adjustments. Your Savior has risen.

Let your actions be a reward to others—Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves. Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. (Romans 12:10-11, NIV)