Oops, did I miss Easter?

by Fay Barlow
(lexington)

The Easter season has come and gone. The brightly colored eggs are fading as I write (and smelling). The bunny has hopped back into its’ own world and the candy industry is counting its profits while mom’s all across America are rationing out chocolate.

I spent Easter week in Pensacola, Fl. There I reminisced with a good friend about the past while my thirteen year old son and his friend rolled their eyes at us. They had a good time of their own. From playing on the beach to seeing the Blue Angels practice.

It hit me at about church time, yesterday, that is was, in fact, Easter Sunday. But even then, my perception was different. We go to a very casual, yet fundamentally sound church. But to walk into church yesterday, there were no signs of the Easters past.

No bonnets, no white shoes on little girls. No suits on little boys and I may venture to say that I was the only one wearing a dress, bought with Easter in mind.

I guess life is different here. I no longer have small kids whom I have to put an Easter basket together for. We are not in the season of children’s Easter pageants. There was no Cantata or play to rehearse for.

So many years of my life were spent wearing myself out over Easter. Rehearsals of some kind fogged my mind for weeks before Easter. Planning out which family we were going to spend the holiday with and what the menu would be was far more prevalent on my mind than the death and resurrection of Jesus.

I even remember times of such guilt over not thinking about Jesus during this most holy week, but instead, thinking about my speaking part or my alto notes. I would frantically read about Jesus’ death and resurrection in one or all of the gospels, trying to conjure up a feeling of what Easter meant.

But I always seemed to come up short, as with so many things I try to do in the flesh and out of a works attitude. Easter would be over and I would be exhausted both mentally and physically. Shame and guilt over what I thought I should have experienced during that dramatic scene of the play would carry me into the weeks beyond.

A few years ago, while I was shaming myself over this whole Easter business, I felt the Lord speak to my spirit. He reminded me that His death and resurrection is something I should think of everyday. And every day when I praise Him for loving me and forgiving me, I am remembering Easter.

I think we should have a time set apart for important things. Christmas, Easter, Sunday worship.

But I also think that everyday should be a celebration of what Jesus did for us on the cross. And that can be accomplished whether I am on the first row, alto section, or playing on the beach with my son in Florida.