Every year I have this tradition. One I don’t think my husband even knows about. At Easter time, when I’m called by the chocolate bunnies to the candy aisle, I spend way too much time walking up and down each row picking up little candy chicks and convincing myself that I don’t need to buy all the PEZ dispensers. But when I stumble across one of these babies, I buy it.
After spending all my money on juice and mac and cheese, and my Cadbury Creme Egg, I load it all up. As I leave the parking lot I unwrap the pile of sugar, brace myself and take a bite. I can handle the chocolate. One more bite, and now the creamy sugary egg-like center. I choke it down, then roll down my window and chunk it.
It’s pretty much disgusting.
I pretty much hate them.
But every year, I buy one, take a bite and then gift it to the birds.
Easter has always been my favorite. I love the spring, I love the flowers, the bunnies, and oh the chocolate. When I was younger these little hunks of sugar were a staple in our house for the season. My brother could inhale them. I always enjoyed one or maybe two. They were never really my favorite, but they just remind me.
They remind me of a simple day of being with family.
They remind me of the sunrise services where we would place fresh flowers in a chicken-wired cover cross, bringing it to life.
They remind me of new Easter dresses and patent leather shoes.
They remind me of the smell of the grass as I would hunt for eggs.
They remind me of one of the most influential days of my childhood.
They remind me of being a child.
Life gets so complicated. We pay our taxes and try not to worry about what we owe while our kids are hunting eggs that we dyed the night before because we didn’t have time during the week. We hope our kids embed their own memories of family and carry on tradition someday in the far away future. We pray, just pray, that our kids really grasp the meaning of what happened on the cross…and what it means that Jesus got off of it.
But nothing brings back those moments of being a child. Not even a bite of those nasty eggs. In fact, every year with the toss out the window, those little eggs show me how to embrace the beautiful life God has given me…the life with hopeful children, and fresh mercies and new life, every single day.
What is one of your favorite childhood Easter memories?