Ah, Easter Sunday. On this most glorious of days, my husband and I and our five young children rise early to meditate on the mysteries of the Resurrection. After an hour of prayer the kids search for their Easter baskets. When they find them, they ignore the chocolate bunnies and colorful jelly beans to ask about the saints featured on their new prayer cards that were tucked into the baskets. During a deeply stirring Mass, the full meaning of Easter is placed on our hearts in a profound way. We sing songs the whole way home, and in the evening we enjoy a lovely dinner, during which our conversation covers a variety of pious and holy topics.
...In my dreams. In reality, it usually goes something like this:
I wake up late, because I stayed up past midnight getting the house ready for Easter. The kids have already begun hunting for their baskets by the time I rise. My husband and I stop them to say a few prayers, and when we finally give them permission to resume the search they run like prisoners escaping incarceration. Once they spot their baskets, they pounce on them like lions on prey. In their frenzy to cram as much candy into their mouths as quickly as possibly, they almost eat the prayer cards. We have to arrive at church an hour before Mass starts in order for the seven of us to sit together, and by the time we get to the Gospel reading the youngest three kids are exhibiting symptoms usually only seen in rabid animals. After Mass we're stuck in parking lot traffic for fifteen minutes, our discussions about the readings interrupted with, "Why isn't the car moving, Daddy?" and "Mommy, she hit me in the ear again!" By the time the big dinner rolls around, the kids are coming down from their sugar highs, and I spend most of the time soothing a punchy three-year-old who is sobbing because her green beans were not arranged correctly on her plate.
Last night, after I finally got everyone to bed, I wondered how much I'd really thought about the Resurrection that day. When we talked about it in the morning, it was under the pressure of knowing that we would have to park blocks away from the church if we didn't leave soon enough. I made my best effort to ponder the scriptures during Mass, but my concentration was broken every few minutes by the need to tend to one of the little ones, who had all reached their limits of how long they could sit quietly somewhere around the Penitential Rite. I promised myself I'd pray the Glorious Mysteries of the Rosary once I got in bed, but I collapsed into a deep and much-needed sleep the moment my head hit the pillow.
When I woke up this morning, I was relieved to remember that I still had forty-nine more days to contemplate the Resurrection. As I walked through the house putting white patent leather shoes back in closets, picking up Cadbury Egg wrappers, and tidying the scattered contents of Easter baskets (all the while trying not to think bad thoughts about whatever madman invented that plastic green Easter grass, which had somehow migrated to cover every square inch of my house), I was reminded once again that the big holidays often aren't the best days for deep reflection. The grand feasts and celebrations have their place, but they also take a lot of work. When you have to clean and cook and get everyone dressed up and wade through huge crowds at church and come home and serve a special meal and then clean up after it all, there simply aren't a lot of hours left in the day for anything else.
At the beginning of this first Monday of Easter, a gorgeous Spring day here in Texas, I'm grateful that we have an entire season to think about the Resurrection. The Church, in her wisdom, knows that we need more than a single day to wrap our minds around the significance of the empty tomb. And so as I continue to recover from the whirlwind of happy chaos that was yesterday, I'm excited to know that Easter is not over, but has only just begun.
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Happy Easter! All so true!
Easter grass is a vile substance.
Aww that was beautiful ..thanks I really needed to hear that this morning…your right we do have a nice long time to think about Easter ! Happy Easter!
LOVE this! Thanks, Simcha! Aren’t we lucky to get so much Easter?
When my kids were growing up, we reserved the baskets until after church. As Dad herded the kids into the car, Mom mysteriously placed the baskets on the front porch. The children arriving home from Mass, discovered the baskets and were totally thrilled at their appearing there as if by magic. Of course this was only reasonable if we went to early Mass.
Incidentally, I was thinking something similar this morning: that in feeling a little wistful vis-a-vis Lent because of how much it helped our family to grow, and how Easter suddenly seemed to be “upon us” in the whirlwind of one day, it took me a bit to remember that Easter, like Christmas, is not just for a day. During Advent and Christmas, we are already pointed toward Easter, and spiritual growth happens in cycles and the feed-back loop of grace.
P.S. Happy Easter, Jen, and to everyone here!
I wisely decided before my oldest had her first Easter to never, ever bring Easter grass into our home. I don’t think the kids’ have missed it at all…more room in their baskets for the good stuff.
But by mid-afternoon we certainly had the crankiness and extra craziness going around with four kids living on too much sugar and not enough sleep. Thank goodness for the rest of the Easter season…
You know, quite without really thinking about it or talking about it, my husband and I never push the candy aspect of Easter or talk about Easter baskets or the Easter bunny, my kids have never asked about the Easter bunny. They get candy and baskets mainly because we’re usually visiting grandparents and it’s all over the house. My main fun Easter thing is dying eggs and egg hunts before Easter.
One of our old family friends discovered this a couple of days ago and was absolutely appalled that our kids didn’t know about the Easter bunny and thought we were seriously depriving them of some great experience. We had honestly never even thought about it.
I love Easter season. I love the stories of the Acts of the apostles. I love all the little rights that get added to the Mass. What a wonderful post, thanks Jen.
Alleluia and AMEN! I spend much of Easter Sunday in a fog after the Vigil Mass—and the kids have to watch movies to deal with their exhaustive state. And now… it’s Easter Monday and I’m ready to celebrate!
ha, I loved that first paragraph. I wonder if such a utopia even exists?
Lol, I knew the first paragraph was a “set up”...As for our Easter mass, my youngest two, who cause all the trouble were perfect until half way through the consecration, at which point I had to walk them out, (forgiving them cause they looked so darn cute) with my daughter demanding a doughnut LOUDLY. My husband and I did something really cool this year. After taking six kids to the beach on Saturday, we went on a date. *First* to the Easter vigil mass, ALONE,and then to a nice dinner at a little bistro. We sat at the back of the church, and were right next to the catechumens being baptized, and confirmed. Their joy was really moving. My husband and I got to hold hands and concentrate on *love* and the *resurrection*, so the next day I didn’t feel so bad that I could hardly think at all.
I love your prayer card idea. I’m doing that next year!
Plastic grass is awful…..100% agreement here.
Our 5 were on the “two year plan,” so I can relate to your Mass story. Sometimes my only prayer at Mass was to PLEASE help us get through Mass! And as for Easter grass- we found it year-round at my house growing up, so I banned it when I had a family of my own. We moved away one year, so my husband’s sister kindly sent us a care package in Spring. Yep, she mailed us Easter grass.
:)Jen,you’re hilarious ...thankyou for writing in the midst of the happy chaos!and Happy Easter Season!
We did the Vigil, and Good Friday, both times and Holy Thursday night. I reckon I covered the whole of Lent right there.
Oh, so true, so true. The Church is very wise.
Happy Easter – Don’t forget Marcy Sunday, the greatest day for Mercy.
Sorry E is too close to A, and I have crooked fingers.
“But surely there was an historical Jesus,
Who walked on the earth, and who died on a cross—
He might have been God, or he might be a prophet,
Whoever he was… what a horrible loss!”
Well, honestly, no. I have heard all the stories,
The claims that the evidence can’t be denied—
But the jury’s still out; there’s no verdict I’ll swear to,
I don’t know he lived, and much less, how he died.
But frankly, the question is really much simpler
Than if there’s a Jesus in whom I believe—
The purpose of Christ is irrelevant, really,
Unless there’s a literal Adam and Eve.
If Eden is only a fable or parable,
Not how the life on our planet begins,
If Adam and Eve are not literal people,
No Jesus is needed to die for our sins.
And here, there’s an answer; there wasn’t an Eden
There wasn’t an apple, there wasn’t The Fall
Original Sin is a fictional concept
So Jesus was never required at all.
So, go ahead—argue that Jesus existed;
Muster your evidence; make me aware—
His reason for being was falsely constructed,
So… “Was there a Jesus?” I really don’t care.
That was great - Jen, thanks! It kind of takes the pressure off of making it all or nothing on Easter Sunday
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