What Easter Means To Me

March 29, 2018

When I was young Easter meant spending the night at my grandparent’s house.

My sisters and cousins and I looked forward to the Easter Bunny visiting us there.  It became a tradition started when my mother’s younger sister, Alison, was still living at home. She was and always will be just a big kid who likes to play Easter Bunny to her nieces and nephews.  

Oh how much fun we had..didn’t we Auntie Al?  🙂

I remember Jessie and I sneaking downstairs in the middle of the night, seeing if the Easter Bunny had delivered any eggs.  Never will I forget the year that my grandmother woke up, hearing the creaking steps leading down the stairs. Did you know, there is a science to getting down squeak free?  Jess had it perfected, me, not so much. I ran in one direction, she in the other. I pulled in and hid behind the grandfather clock, she under the piano. Grammie peered around at me in the darkness, all 5’2” of her.   She didn’t need to say a thing. I, trying desperately to squelch the giggles, burst, which was usually the way it went…and we were sent back to bed.

There was one Easter, falling closely on the heels of my tonsillectomy, that I wasn’t quite so eager for the eating, but more into the hunting…it was like tackle football in the downstairs of my grandparents house with all of us scrambling to get the most jelly beans and marshmallow eggs.  

Let’s not forget the Easter that my little sister Laura spilled water down the front of her dress right before church.  No problem; my grandfather pulled out the hair-dryer and blew her dry while Gram directed us to get into our patten leather shoes.  My parents walked through the door just in time to see the chaos…and my grandfather just kept on drying.

Donned in our Polly Flinders, riding high on sugar we always went to church, which seemed to be the longest lasting service of the year.  All the cousins were anxious to get to the egg hunt that took place in the park behind Grammie and Grampa’s house Easter afternoon.

One year these little voices from the 5th pew up on the right side of the church belted out one too many “Hallelujahs”  during the Hallelujah Chorus; lots of chuckles over that in the congregation. Gee, I wonder who they were? 😉

Many years have gone by since those Easters.  When I hear Christ the Lord is Risen Today I fondly think back—it brings tears to my eyes and I choke a little on the words, always avoiding the eyes of my sisters and mother who I know are holding tears back just like me. We stand by each other’s side in church singing.  I think. We all think about how sweet our Easters were, hoping that we are making them just as good for our own children so that they too will have a moment like this when they can look back and feel such pure, sweet emotion.

Ironically, it was Easter Day, many years after I was little, in which my grandfather moved on to a new phase of life, without us. Sometimes I wonder at the coincidence of it all.

Easter. A glorious day of rebirth.   

A day of renewal. A day to be reminded to have faith in whatever it is you believe in.  

Faith in yourself. Faith in family and friends. Faith in God. Faith in faith.  

Happy Easter my friends.

With love,