EDIT: A very precious teacher from my childhood politely informed me that I had misspelled "vial" for perfume. I promise, my perfume is not "VILE". :) Thank you for the heads-up, Mrs. Woods. My brain is on auto-pilot today.
Yesterday afternoon was crazy. I'm hosting Easter this year, which meant lots of running around to ensure I have everything I will need. I did this yesterday, because my week is crazy. We're busy every day. Crazy crazy crazy.
So, as I was zooming through the aisles of my beloved Target, chucking plastic Easter eggs into my cart, I couldn't help but get that "THIS ISN'T WHAT THIS HOLIDAY IS ABOUT" feeling, the one that typically gnaws at my soul during Christmas and Easter. We don't do the bunny thing, so the eggs don't even make sense in that way! But, I kept a few eggs, put a few away, grabbed some small pieces of paper (to write "privileges" on, like staying up or having dessert, to put in the eggs, so it isn't ALL candy), tossed those in the cart, and came home.
And, of course, at 10:30 that night, I received an email from my best friend, which had a link to this blog.
And, really, I agree. This holiday is the crux of Christianity. Without the Resurrection, we just believe Jesus was a good guy who died and that's that. But, He became our Savior on Easter morning. The catalyst that changed it all.
And, so, laying in bed, I stared at the ceiling. Then I turned my head to look at the Target bag filled with eggs, wedged against the wall. And then I looked back up at the ceiling. And at the eggs. I prayed. I looked at the ceiling. I prayed some more. Eggs, ceiling, eggs, ceiling.
I then decided to consult my husband, the guy who makes things make sense to me, to hear his opinion. I explained my plight to him--the EGGS! the EGGS! is not what this is about! And he listened, he nodded, he put his hand on his chin. And he explained that the eggs are just a family tradition. He grew up doing them, I mostly grew up doing them. The grandparents will be here, Easter baskets in hand. Just do a few eggs for the kids. They're so little. It's just eggs.
"But," he said, "It's up to us to teach them the Truth. We did eggs, but we knew the Truth, too."
How do we say one thing while doing another? How do I talk to my kids about the hugeness of this Event whilst dolling out cheap plastic eggs?
I mean, I get it. I can separate the two in my mind: The Family Tradition and the Holiday. The tradition is just that--something fun. The Holiday is what it's all about. But will my kids be able to distinguish between the two? It's easy to blow things off and say it isn't that big of a deal, but, it kind of is. In my opinion, anyway.
So, this year, for the first time, we're observing Holy Week. In our own little way. Not observing Holy Week so we can do eggs, but observing it to help the kids understand the steps that led up to the Resurrection. We kind of wave branches around on Palm Sunday and skip right to Easter. But taking those days in between to study the events leading up to Christ's death ... we need the context. I'm sure many of you do this anyway, but I didn't grow up in a tradition that ever observed Holy Week. It's new to me, and wonderful.
This morning, I grabbed our Storybook Bible (LOVE IT) and read Caleb the story of Mary Magdelene pouring her perfume on Jesus' feet. This is technically tomorrow's story, so ... forgive me. I jumped ahead. Anyway. I read it, complete with my own vial of perfume. And Cub was totally into it. He smelled the perfume. Nodded when I used words like "expensive" and "sinner" and "alabaster". And when I read that Mary knew she needed a Savior, Cub's eyes widened and said, "MOM! I get it!!" I paused, excitedly.
"IT'S JUST LIKE ON YO GABBA-GABBA."
"You know, Yo-Gabba Gabba when there's that big green cloud that comes out of that car? It's yucky and bad, and poisons the ENTIRE EARTH."
I stared blankly at Cub's excited face, blinking a few times to register.
"Um, okay..? It's bad like, uh, sin?"
He tapped his finger on his chin and nodded. Yes. The green cloud on Yo Gabba-Gabba is just like sin.
We finished the story and I couldn't help but giggle. I mean, he was kind of right.
I freak out with things like this, I do. I worry. It's such a huge responsibility to teach our kids the Truth. And Cub's little mind was processing it as best he could. Like any four year old. I needed that reminder, that we do the best we can. We plant the seed. We teach the Truth. And sometimes our kids get it ... and sometimes they don't! Or, they kind of do, and relate it to a cartoon that we RARELY WATCH, AHEM.
I'm still stumped with the eggs. And now I have to abruptly end this post, because Lydia pooped. Thank you for reading my random processing post. Now that I re-read it, this post is kind of a hot mess. All over the place.
Thank you for reading, anyway.
Have a lovely day.
P.S.--Her diaper is changed! Now. What are your thoughts?? I would love to know your family's Easter traditions!