Easter

I thought about recycling my Easter post from last year. Because, really, it's Easter. What could possibly change?

But then I had some time to think--a rare occurrence these days--and I realized that, while Easter may not have changed, a few other things have.

Easter egg hunts for one. When I was a child, Easter egg hunts were actually about well, hunting for Easter eggs. We went to a small local park, and hunted for eggs. Because, you know, it was an Easter egg hunt. We didn't have an option of which Easter egg hunt we were going to, because there was one park in our town that had an Easter egg hunt, and that's where you went.

To hunt for Easter eggs.

I took the kids to two Easter egg hunts today (not including the incredibly fun party hosted by my friend Teri and her hubby, where there was also an Easter egg hunt). The first one could have actually been an Easter egg hunt, because I think people did actually hunt for eggs. I'm not really sure though, because we had to leave after ten minutes. Yup, we did. Because unlike the Easter egg hunts of my childhood, this one also had crafts. Lots of them. In a very small room. With many small children. Many, many small children. I love small children. I love crafts. I do not, however, love very small rooms with many small children and many crafts. Especially after one of my sweet children dumped an entire bottle of Elmer's glue on the table, as another one of my sweet children attempted to break dance across the floor, between people's feet.

In the very small room, with many small children, and lots of crafts.

Then I found out about the three separate Easter egg hunt times, for my three separate children, and well, we had to go.

I did have some guilt about this. Mainly because this Easter egg hunt was at our church, and I thought it would be good to participate in more activities that our church youth ministry works so hard to organize. But the thing is, we're Catholic. Catholic churches are great at bingo. I hear the St Patrick's Day dinners are pretty good, too.

Basically, anything that allows the church to serve beer and wine is pretty much a hit.

But Easter egg hunts?

They're just not our thing.

So we snuck away from our Catholic church sponsored Easter egg hunt, and went down the street to the one the Baptist church sponsored instead.

And there was an actual Easter egg hunt there, too. An incredibly large, amazingly well organized Easter egg hunt. But this was more than just an Easter egg hunt. This was a huge, EASTER PRODUCTION. There weren't just eggs to find, in various locations in and around the building. There were games to play, and faces to paint, and moon bounces to wait in line for and eventually even briefly bounce on. There were raffles, and food concessions, and even pony rides.

When it come to Easter egg hunts, the Baptists definitely have it.

(Don't be jealous, Methodists. You guys always have the better signs outside your churches).

But it just doesn't feel right calling it an Easter egg hunt, since hunting for eggs was such a minuscule, insignificant part of the whole PRODUCTION.

It was more like an Easter EVENT.

Which, on one hand, just seems so incredibly over the top, and makes me nostalgic for the simple Easter egg hunt in the small park in the town in which I grew up.

But on the other hand, whey shouldn't it be an EVENT?

Because, after all, it's Easter.

Which is, you know, kind of a big event.

Unlike the Easter egg hunts, Easter was always a  big deal when I was growing up. Because it was Easter. There would be family visiting. And a big meal. And candy. Of course, I knew that Easter was all about Jesus. But, really, as a child, it was just as much--if not more-- about all the other stuff.

Holy week, leading up to Easter, was also a big deal, though mainly because we were off school, and there were a few Holy Days thrown in there.

Holy Days growing up were days that you had to go to church.

Because the church said so.

Recently, though, I haven't found myself thinking of Holy Days in quite the same way.

As I sat in Mass on Palm Sunday and truly listened.

As I watched my seven year old daughter during mass on Holy Thursday, as she sat, mesmerized, when the church filled with the sounds of bells.

And when she asked me, later, how Good Friday got its name, when it wasn't really such a good day.

And as I heard myself struggling to explain that sometimes, things don't seem very good at all. But that later, we find out that it was all part of something amazing.

Something that allows us to experience things like grace, and forgiveness, and peace, and redemption, and joy.

These are Holy Days.

But more than that, these are holy days.

Easter egg hunts aren't what they used to be.

But then again, neither is Easter.

At least, not for me.