As a little girl I loved Easter. What’s not to love? I
always got a new “Easter outfit” which included a frilly dress of my choosing,
lacy socks, shiny new patent leather mary janes, a hat and even little white
gloves. If I was lucky I got a purse too.
No, I’m not nearing 80, that’s just the way my mom wanted to do
things. The night before Easter we would dye enough eggs to
exhaust a barnyard of chickens. My
parents and I were artistic geniuses. It is amazing what a crayon and some food dye can do. One year we died with natural dyes. It was so much fun. Anyways, the night before the big day I would put
my basket by the door in anticipation of the goodies I would get. Yes, I believed! Up at dawn I would hopefully get to scarf
down a couple of jelly beans before church.
I had an allergy to chocolate as a kid so I never got a chocolate bunny in my basket. I did get a vanilla one once. It tasked like flavored wax. After church we would gather at friends for a giant neighborhood Easter
Egg Hunt. This was before families took
plastic ones and filled them with candy.
These eggs were real and the grownups could hardly wait for us to find
them, so they could begin eating them.
There would always be a prize egg and the winner would get a bag of
goodies. It was a grand day! I remember vaguely someone saying something
about Jesus. Is any of this sounding familiar?
I’m not one to condemn any tradition that results in family
togetherness and forming sweet memories, but perhaps there’s a better way. I
came to realize that the Easter celebration I grew up with was all about me: my
appearance, my stash of goodies, my fun day.
And you know….honestly, it’s still all about me…at least that’s what
Jesus would say. You see, He lived in
this hurt-filled world for me. He died a brutal death, at the hands of hateful
people for me. He defeated death and lives on, for me. Romans 5:8 says, “But
God demonstrates His love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ
died for us.” For those who love the fun
family traditions like I grew up with, maybe we should spend a little more time
remembering our Lord who brought each of us so much more than just a wicker
basketful of colored sugar. We should
spend some time just being still, soaking in God’s eternal expression of love
that encompassed the very first Easter.
1 comment:
I share similar memories of Easter, except we never did the "Easter Bunny" thang - only news clothes to wear to church and we also decorated eggs, but only 6. Always, just 6, which were later salvaged and put into potato salad. My parents came from Depression days so nothing was ever wasted...I feel like my parents did a pretty good job keeping us focused on the true meaning of Easter. Sweet times...Great blog post, Karen.
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