I used to think that Easter was about egg hunts and jelly beans, pictures with the Bunny and frilly dresses. I mean, I know the felt board Sunday school story, crucified and risen. And I've heard the Holy Week sermon a time or two. But I didn't give it a whole lot of thought outside of one Sunday morning a year, and even then my mind may have wandered to thoughts of devouring deviled eggs later in the day... and, let's be honest, I was looking forward to Reese eggs, too.
I thought that this year we'd celebrate Easter with pastel plastic eggs, hidden, discovered, opened and shared.
I thought that this year would allow for some great photos, of not just one but two children, in cute color-coordinated outfits.
I thought that this year we could dye eggs together, that our fingers might be stained purple at Easter dinner, a sign of our dedicated decorating.
I think that this year the story I've heard over and over was heard differently, was more meaningful, made more sense.
I know that Easter is not all bunny hops and bonnet parades. It's life and death, and life again...
The hyacinths, party favors from Cel's first birthday last year, are blooming in our yard again this spring, a symbol of the glorious promise of eternal life...
2 comments:
There's great comfort in knowing the Gift of eternal life . . .
And most can’t help but get caught up in the commercialized fun, but personally I think realizing the real meaning of Easter is better and more propelling.
I think it counts as a small miracle that we all made it to church this Easter, dressed and on-time. Extra kudos to Aunt Sally! I know I felt especially blessed to share such a meaningful worship service and Widor's toccata with you...
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