Okay, so it's Easter Eve, and I'm up sitting in front of my lap top. I've done the Easter Bunny thing, about which I'm guiltily ambivalent, feeling like I've cowed to culture, but at the same time wanting to make childhood really fun for my kids. Of course I know Easter's not about a dumb bunny, but there's something incredibly magical about waking up and finding Dove chocolate eggs all over the house and discovering an Easter basket with some goodies in it. My mom always made it special for me, so I figure I need to carry on the tradition. I'll never forget the Easter after I became a Christian, when Mom put a real leather NIV New Testament (and Psalms and Proverbs) in my basket. It was extra sweet of her, since I'd been lambasting her with threats of going to hell if she didn't know Jesus. The fact that she acknowledged my Christianity in this way was a tender act by a mother too loving to be offended by her over-zealous daughter.
Tomorrow my kids will experience Easter for the first time in a liturgical setting. I bought them some flowers so they can participate in the flowering of the cross tradition. They've been noticing how different church is during Lent--how somber, how symbolic, how incredibly moving. Tomorrow, they'll sense the excitement of resurrection, of hope, of joy. And so will I, since this year I rediscovered joy in worship.
This is a test post.
4 years ago