Easter Sunday is a burst of joy wrapped in purple cellophane. It’s sunlight on tiny leaves and white pantyhose on fidgety little legs and dye-stained fingers bobbing with freshly washed hair.
From the first glimpse of the Easter Morning Resurrection, there is excitement in the air.
The kids wake up, eyes bright with anticipation and stumble/run into the kitchen. They smile; the room lights up. Wicker baskets full of plastic grass await them, filled with chocolate animals, sticky candies and neon yellow marshmallow chicks.
Candy Robin eggs covered in shiny blue foil share grassy nests with blush-colored hair clips, striped green Pixy Stix and rainbow-hued dyed eggs.
It is the first glory of every Easter morning; the fun and purity of wonder that only children possess. They rake the grass in their baskets, digging for hidden treasures. Flimsy plastic toys appear on the surface: quarter-sized yo-yos, miniature bottles of bubbles, caps that spin with maddening effort and wonky inconsistency.
None of these treats will last beyond the day. They will be lost or broken or thrown aside. But that doesn’t matter. The seconds of happiness they bring will last a lifetime.
Chocolate for breakfast… with boiled eggs. Moms and dads help wash away sticky little hands that have gone from chubby little fists to open palms and ragged cuticles, and marvel at the speed of life.
Then sunlight streams through the kitchen and everyone rushes to get ready for church.
The bathroom mirror reflects all sizes and ages of faces. Freckled and wrinkled. Reluctant and eager. Perfume and deodorant scents mingle with the pungent smell of egg dye vinegar, creating a smell that will never be forgotten and forever tied to Easter.
New shirts as rigid as cardboard defy finger buttoning. Shoes fresh out of the box hold toes for the first time. Miniature ties lasso restless boys, and matching ones adorn reluctant dads.
The little girls, delicately dressed in sweet and lace, wince mischievously as they swing shiny white patent leather handbags filled with sermon candies above their heads in haloed circles.
And mum, a butterfly beauty surprise, emerges from her cocoon of doing, loving and being on a daily basis. She shines in feminine beauty; her children gasp with joy to see this stranger/mom. They hug her and fingerprints from chocolate smuggling decorate her new dress with love stains.
She smiled maternal defeat, scolding them and chasing them all back to the car.
The doors of the church are wide open and families are climbing towards the warmth that awaits them. The cross. The crown. Sadness. And joy. The everlasting gift that Christ provided with the dawn of Easter morning.
The music and lyrics tell how he died and how “IT IS RESULT!” “. Hearts feel a new thrill of undeserved love as the chocolate laughter of restless children jump in happiness on wooden benches.
These are the fullest moments of life. Easter hugs as precious as the Love that rolled away the stone.
May your Easter morning be filled with childlike joy, quiet gratitude and renewed faith.