Christ is risen. Let's eat.

As you'd expect, one of the holiest days in the liturgical canon was celebrated with Timbits and stale pound cake.

As part of her gig as chief kitchen wench for the Catholic Women's League, my Mom was responsible for arriving at the Easter Vigil service an hour early, and setting up the after service luncheon. I came along as her disgruntled sidekick.

The Vigil itself was an endurance contest.

It lasted for two solid hours and contained all the elements of a really good guilt fest. There was mass candle lighting, at least five separate readings, three adult baptisms and confirmations, and some rousing, if off key, hymn singing.

My Mom, in her unfailing positivity, had demanded that we set up the luncheon for 80 -- a number that I grew increasingly more sceptical of as the service inched its way to a conclusion. Because I wanted to bolt, I assumed everyone else wanted to, as well.

But it turns out she was right.

In fact, never underestimate the power of free food to draw a crowd.

The hall was full, people really seemed to be enjoying themselves, and my Mom was a star. I was really proud of my Mom as she ably stick-handled the other grey hairs to serve the parched and peckish crowd.

There's lots of joy in life's little things.

I'm grateful for that lesson this Easter time.