This Easter was very quiet and simple.  In years past, we always trekked to my Grandma's house (about an hour and a half away) and crammed into her tiny kitchen and dining room with my uncles and cousins.  It was always a loud and boisterous occasion, and border-line claustrophobic, given the closeness of the shared quarters and my Grandma’s towering, hoarded collections of this-and-that’s.   
But the day after Thanksgiving last year, my Grandma had a stroke, and she is now confined to a wheel chair.  Not wanting to put a strain on her and her recovery, we decided to stay in town this year, and celebrate the holiday with my mom and dad, who live right down the street.  Grandma still made her presence felt, though - she made her famous Coconut Cake and ferried it down to us through my sister. 
After lunch, which was a tasty turkey, stuffing, and green beans affair, we walked back to my home and hunted Easter eggs.  The day had been a little rainy, so we ended up hunting them inside the house.  Mike's mom and grandmother also came over and shared the Coconut Cake and helped the boys find the eggs.  It was peaceful and relaxing.  I enjoyed listening to my mom (a.k.a. Grammie) and mother-in-law (a.k.a. Grandma Pendley) gab it up.  They’re hilarious when they get going. 

Part of me, however, misses the frenzy and activity of the by-gone days.  The vying for the last scrap of Broccoli Cheese Casserole, the animated conversations of political and social science brought forth so eloquently from the lips of my blue-collar uncle (I’m being facetious), the not-so animated conversations of my unmarried and much younger cousins, who I still shared the children’s table with, even though I had expanded the table to include my husband and our own children.  Unfortunately, I don’t see this type of gathering ever happening with my family again.    

Inside, I realize that this event happens to all of us.  One day, the tides simply turn.  Generations shift.  New traditions begin.  Watching as the changing-of-the-guard occurs between my Grandma and my mom, I am troubled by the inevitable passage of time, and the certainties that will travel with it. 

Then, I realize that allowing myself to be burdened to watch life’s clock is ridiculous.  It’s better to focus on the time at hand, and to appreciate what we have – because what we DO have is truly precious.      

Tonight, Max and I dyed a few Easter Eggs.  He was a great helper.  In the course of things, I thought it would be a great opportunity to talk to him about why we dye eggs at Easter. 

"Max, do you know why we dye the eggs?"
"So the Easter Bunny can find them?"
"No, silly." Although I had to appreciate his creative response.  I steered clear of the Easter Bunny, which is an allegory of its own, and focused instead of the importance of Easter's lesson of Everlasting Life. 

The egg began to officially represent the rebirth of Christ about a century after His death, when the Catholic Church adopted it as a symbol; the lesson was that even though the egg is hard like a rock in a tomb, a new life springs forth from it. 

But even before Christianity claimed the symbolism, eggs have always been representative of new life and rebirth, across hundreds of civilizations, and for tens of thousands of years.  Anyone who's seen a baby chick come from an egg will attest to the amazing way that life materializes in unexpected, God-like ways.  And, as eggs tend to be eaten before they become chickens, the lesson also translates into eggs becoming sustenance for our bodies, thereby giving us life as well. 

Traditionally, eggs were dyed red to represent the blood of Jesus, as sacrificed for us on the cross.  But today, the vivid array of colors that accompanies Easter eggs also speak to the joy, love, and forgiveness that Christians carry in their souls everyday. 

As I explained to Max how eggs are much more than breakfast fare or houses for baby chicks, he seemed to really absorb the lesson.  

New Life is a gift of God’s Love, so it is with gladness and thankfulness that we celebrate our Easter traditions.        

 

I am usually off Thursdays and Fridays, but this week, I worked on Thursday so I could have Saturday off.  Now, I have a three day weekend!  Woohoo!
Of course, the reason for the extended weekend is that Sunday is Easter, which means that today is Good Friday. 
It is on this day that we observe the death of Jesus.  I placed an out-of-office reply on my email, and let my calls go to voice mail.  Today is a quiet day - a day of reflection and introspection.  A day to marvel the love of a man that would give his life for a principle - to teach us all the lesson of sacrifice, and the meaning of unconditional love.  My thoughts stray to whether I could embody that depth of conviction.  What would I die for?
The answer is right in front of me - two crazy boys that I love more than life itself.  Both of them are wearing these silly bunny masks that their Grammie gave to them last year. 
I thank Jesus for my blessings, who are giggling infectiously, and also for His sacrifice, that taught me to love so deeply.