I spent Easter weekend with my favorite peeps…and they weren’t even the marshmallow kind.
<ba dum dum>
Saturday’s festivities included a first birthday party for a very special little girl (I’m an honorary auntie) and the annual after-dark Easter egg hunt at “House Severus” (we scored toilet paper, paper towels, soap, snacks and more Tootsie Rolls than you care to know).
On Resurrection Sunday, we spent the better part of the day at my parents’ house where Uncle Pete and Aunt Sherry joined us for supper. We were elated at Christmas when Pete was able to keep down little bites of everything; this holiday brought the surprise that Pete has reacquired quite an appetite! He cleared a rather full plate and helped himself to three different desserts. Pete’s new chemotherapy involves taking a pill rather than undergoing the intravenous treatment, and it seems to be much easier on his body. Of course, only time will tell if it is as effective at staving off the multiple tumors’ growth.
Aside from Pete’s shorter, whiter hair (it’s coming back!), he was 100% Pete…joking, laughing, irreverent and sarcastic as ever. It was splendid!
We talked about going to visit our family down at the farm sometime soon, and I mentioned that I couldn’t go this weekend due to a prior engagement. Naturally, Pete took the opportunity to guilt-trip me mercilessly. “This might be the last time we all go down there together,” he teased.
Sadly, there’s an element of truth behind it. Pete’s recovery thus far has been remarkable, miraculous even—most people don’t have 9 massive brain tumors that shrink down to virtually nothing or get a 6-week life expectancy prognosis that turns into months and (hopefully) years—but we’re not guaranteed anything. Though things are looking sunny right now, the proverbial skies could cloud at any moment.
Rather than give in to the pangs of sorrow that shivered inside, I returned Pete’s banter. First, I called him on his ruse. He replied oh-so dramatically, “A ruse by any other name is still a ruse.”
Then I reminded him that it could be the last time we saw each other because I could die in a car accident any given day with my 80-mile roundtrip commute. He laughed and tossed back, “Well, what do you want me to do, go to work with you?”
You know, I sure wish I could bring him to work with me. It’d make the days better for everyone!
You may have spied this in my Twitter feed (there’s a ‘follow’ button on the sidebar –> )
but I wanted to be sure all of you fine people saw it…
Chocolate Stormtrooper “Bunnies.” Wal-Mart. Easter candy aisle. Winning.
Like every holiday steeped in religious tradition, Easter means many things to many people. For me, it has always been about two things: Jesus and family.
I find deep satisfaction in observing the original intent of the holiday. It’s easy to go about my day-to-day life praying to a living, loving God who provides for my needs. In the throes of the rat race, though, I don’t make as much time as I’d like to reflect on Jesus’ sacrifice and celebrate His resurrection. The Easter season presents a reminder for me to be deliberate about it.
Outside of the Sunday morning services, festivities include gathering together with family. For as long as I can remember, we’ve enjoyed a delicious supper and time coloring eggs before “hunting” them. When I was little, the best times were on my grandparents’ farm.
The romanticized images dancing through my memory include warm sun rays and my little legs carrying me as fast as they could to try to pick up the brightly colored eggs before my cousins laid siege on them. After the hunt (which occasionally included an egg getting lodged in a car’s tail pipe), we all sat on the deck joking and laughing while everyone peeled and ate the hard-boiled eggs. I’ll never forget my Uncle Pete perched up on the railing, a wide smile stretched across his face.
These days, the egg-hunting activities are hosted by my in-laws. Instead of dashing around the yard in the daylight, we don headlamps and flashlights for an evening hunt. With pillowcases pinned to our belt loops, we strategize and work as quickly as possible to clear the area…knocking each other down when necessary. Plastic eggs stand in for real ones, each stuffed with candy, coins or a numbered slip of paper that corresponds with a prize. Said prizes oftentimes include snacks from a warehouse club or household supplies like soap and paper towels—we don’t have to go to the store for weeks!
I’m still not sure what great significance there is in searching for hidden eggs; maybe it’s supposed to be like Mary Magdalene and Mother Mary going to Jesus’ tomb and finding it empty. I’m sure the Google machine could give us some great insights.
That aside, Easter is a symbolic time of new beginnings, and I’m grateful that I get to spend mine with so many people I love.
Bonus! The season finale of The Walking Dead also happens to be this Sunday night. A show about zombies airing on the day set aside to celebrate Jesus’ resurrection…I see what you did there, AMC. 😉