by Lisa Bicknell, CVT Editor
It was the Easter we all needed.
By “we,” I mean my family, but I hope the same can be said of your Easter.
Last year at this time, most churches were not having in-person services. We were in the middle of the first Covid-19 surge, and the pandemic was still new. There was still a lot of uncertainty as many activities were closed or discouraged.
But this year, lots of folks have been vaccinated, particularly some of the older ones that I worried most about, so we gathered for good food, good fellowship and good weather.
Glorious weather! I had so hoped it would be nice, and the day couldn’t have been more perfect for being out in the sunshine.
Moods were (mostly) bright, and the kiddos had a great time, running around in search of candy-filled eggs, jumping on the trampoline and playing with baby goats.
Yes, my sister-in-law brought a couple of four-legged “kids” to our get-together, and the two-legged kids really enjoyed playing with them and giving them bottles.
Makes me wonder what memories will linger in their imaginations after they are grown up. Will it be the egg hunt and candy or the baby goats? Or will it be something more random?
Memory is a funny thing, because everyone perceives experiences differently.
From my childhood, I remember the smells of boiled eggs, fizzy tablets of food coloring dissolving in cups of vinegar, the plastic aroma of Easter grass and the sugary sweetness of jelly beans. I remember the race to find eggs with my cousins at our grandparents’ house. I remember us peeling and eating those eggs on the porch and making a big mess of pastel bits of eggshell and crumbled yellow yolk.
I remember the year it snow-flurried while we had our egg hunt.
Last year I hid some eggs in our front yard for just Clay and Oaklee as we made an attempt at a socially distant Easter. I didn’t fill the eggs with candy…I guess I hadn’t been to the grocery lately.
Well, Oaklee loves candy, and she was disappointed. She didn’t say a lot at the time, but she commented a few days ago about those empty Easter eggs Nan hid last year. She let me know what an epic fail that idea was.
So this year, we compensated. Well, maybe we overcompensated. We filled dozens and dozens of eggs and hid them all over the place.
After the big hunt, the kids checked to see the contents of their eggs and went right back to jumping on the trampoline and hanging out in the playpen with the goats.
For the egg hunt, I had drug out of the closet the little blue Easter basket that I bought Clay for his first Easter. He was only five months old, and it was before he had ever been released from the hospital for the first time.
Clay had been doing so good, then his diaphragm patch blew out a few days before Easter, which put him in a dangerous position. Clay lay in a medically-induced coma for three weeks. He was a very sick little boy, and I won’t even put into words the fears I had for his future.
Still, I bought the Easter basket, with prayers that someday he’d be able to use it.
Nine years later, I think of how far he’s come and I’m in awe.
Clay is such an amazing little boy. He’s sharp as a tack, and he loves his life. His voice is loud and clear, which is amazing in itself, considering the length of time he was on a ventilator.
During our Easter gathering this weekend, Chelsea (our youngest daughter) and Chris revealed the gender of the baby they are expecting.
Clay was hoping for a boy, since he is currently outnumbered by a sister and a little girl cousin.
When they popped the ballon and the defining color was blue, Clay can be heard above everyone else squealing, “Yes, Yes, Yes!”
I’ve rambled on, which is nothing new, and perhaps I should be tackling some “issue” that needs resolving, instead of writing about my own life.
But every now and then, I’m just blown away by the grace of God. Taking pause to be thankful for the miracles surrounding me just seems like the right thing to do.
Have a great week, folks!