For kids, it’s anticipation
of Easter egg hunts and treats and…oh, yeah. And church. Jacob went to bed last
night wishing that it was already Saturday because then Easter would be the
next day and the Easter bunny would come. He did have a good discussion with neighbor Jay about the meaning of Good Friday and Easter. To my surprise,
Jay taught Sunday school more than once, and he did a good job of explaining
what Christians see as the love of God in sacrificing his son and the
reassurance of the resurrection. Jacob took it all in seriously, and he replied intelligently, though by today he was a bit foggy on the details. He’ll be at sunrise service with the
rest of us, but I know a big part of his mind will be on the egg hunt. Actually
he’ll have two egg hunts, but that’s another story.
For many of us as adults,
it’s a day of preparation which heightens the anticipation. Jordan says it’s
like Christmas Eve—so much to do, so little time. I know it’s been a cooking
day for me—German potato salad for a family gathering tomorrow; sloppy Joe for
a working dinner tonight; setting the table for Easter breakfast. Jordan
prepared for the Easter bunny, straightened what she thought needed
straightening about my house including the bathroom, laid out things for the
morning I hadn’t gotten to yet. And then she went home to do the same at her house.
I’ve written about the
relationship between food and mysteries but it occurs to me you could do a
great article on food and Christianity, from the feeding of the multitudes (Jacob
was retelling the story tonight and said Jesus’ mother told him there wasn’t
enough wine and to hurry up and make more) right up to today when so many of
our holidays center around meals and traditional foods. Turkey at Christmas,
ham or lamb for Easter…and in my family, a big breakfast on each of those days.
Tomorrow I’ll host breakfast
for between seven and nine adults and two children right after the early
service. We’ll have breakfast parfaits (strawberries. yogurt, granola), an egg
casserole, link sausages and biscuits or hot cross buns. I love the buns, buy
them every year, and I think I’m the only one who eats them.
Tonight Jordan made the
egg casserole (I really don’t believe in doing it the night before but she told
me “that’s how we young people roll, Mom”—I bit my tongue on several counts) and I finished
setting the table. So the sloppy Joe sustained us during this activity. Morning
will be hectic with the two young ones hunting eggs and Jordan and me getting
breakfast on the table.
A break in the middle of the
day—for me, a nap. Then it’s off to Jordan’s for mid-afternoon dinner of ham,
beans, potato salad with Christian’s family. Preceded of course by an egg hunt
for Jacob and his two cousins.
In the midst of it all, I
will try hard to keep in mind that miracle that draws us together, the mystery
of the stone rolled away, the glory of the risen Christ. A feeling of awe and
grace came over me last year at the sunrise service—it’s magic to go in the
dark and, sitting in the garden, watch the sky go from gray to pink to daylight.
I’m filled with anticipation of the good news.
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