Easter On the Record

My euphoria after Saturday's beautiful Easter events (a lovely brunch at the Leavitt's, a visit from far away family, the most beautiful afternoon at the cemetery, and the sweetest evening with my children) evaporated a little when I tried to download the day's photos and found all but two of the files somehow corrupted.  Lost.  Gone.

I didn't cry.  But my bubble was significantly burst. 

I ate several hundred Cadbury mini eggs to console myself and wondered if I'd wake up to a suddenly restored memory card as a personal Easter miracle.  The humor of the thought was a little consoling and I finally went to sleep, overtired from the eventful day and the evening's upset. 

I filled a different memory card with images today (Sunday), but I don't dare download them!  So a few shots from my phone will have to suffice and I'll have to cough up some legitimate journaling in lieu of a photo summary.  Please don't hesitate to skip over this lengthy reminiscence.

The sky clouded up tonight and the wind is currently whipping and howling outside my window.  Which seems amazing after a weekend of exquisite spring days.  But the pattern seems to fit my emotional state.  Ever changing. =) 

The Leavitt's Saturday morning's egg hunt was a sunshiny dream.  Susan assigned each child his/her own  color of egg to hunt (how brilliant!!! is that???), and Lucy and Spencer's respective baskets full of pink and green camo eggs couldn't have been cuter (*photo mourning*) and the seriousness on Lucy's face as she looked for her last egg was even sweeter in person.

We love these adopted cousins!

And we love the ones who stopped by on their way home from a spring break ski trip!  And we love the ones we didn't see this Easter afternoon because I was too tired to make the Bountiful drive.  =) 

 

After Saturday morning's general merriment, Lucy and Spencer and I packed an Easter basket picnic and went to the cemetery.  "It's sure a beautiful day at Dad's spot!"  Spencer said as we pulled through the gates.  And it sure was.  We laid on a blanket in the warm sunshine.  We ate apples.  We arranged a few forsythia branches from the cemetery's back fence (shhhh =) with the three humble daffodils we'd brought from home.  All that yellow looked cheerful against the Norwegian greys and blues of Wes's headstone. (*photo mourning*) 

 

When Lucy and Spencer finished their lunch and their usual romping, we opened the scriptures for our traditional Easter treasure hunt.  If you've read The Easter Walk, you know the concept: searching for symbols in nature to commemorate the various scenes of the Easter story.  (I've never actually read The Easter Walk to my kids.  It's lovely and I'm sure I will someday.  But for now, our own story seems relevant enough, and I don't want to pre-program our conversation with the dialog in the book. )  

When we read Mark 15:17, "And they clothed [Jesus] with purple, and platted a crown of thorns, and put it about his head," I sent Lucy and Spencer off to search, emphasizing, "crown of thorns."  I knew the kids could come up with something sharp.  But, once a few poky pine needles were procured, Spencer solemnized the second part of the search: "Now something purple," he said eagerly.  I tried to distract them by opening to the next scripture.  There was absolutely no purple in sight.  Just a lot of brown spring grass, and dried leaves, and our little yellow daffodil arrangement.  So it truly seemed like a miracle to me when Lucy reached down and retrieved a violet.  A single little violet in that vast sea of cemetery grass.  

 

Perfectly purple. 

Perfectly fragrant (Spencer: "Mmmmm, that smells so good!"). 

My favorite flower. 

 

Unaware of the striking, unlikely odds, Lucy and Spencer happily added the purple violet to our accumulation of objects and asked for the next clue.  But the tenderness of that tiny flower (*photo mourning*) was not lost on me. 
 

The rest of the search was similarly sweet (oh, for a way to capture all of that sincere conversation!).  So was our evening at home.  We made resurrection rolls, which we haven't done since Lucy was Spencer's age.  While the bread baked, I brought out all the gospel art pictures depicting the events of Easter week.  I thought we'd look through them casually while we waited for our treat.  But Lucy and Spencer were so engaged (not always the case!).  When we came to the picture of the the Savior kneeling in Gethsemane, we talked in simple terms about the Atonement.  Certainly not comprehending the details, but certainly feeling the Spirit, Spencer snatched the picture out of my hands and hug it, his brow furrowed with sincerity and fervor.  "I...love this picture,"  he said, groping for words. 

 

Maybe those tenderest of moments make up for the fact that we were late to church this morning (typical) and missed opening Easter with "He is Risen."  Maybe they make up for the lack of tender moments in today's primary lesson.  My less than stellar preparation+their holiday over-gigglyness left a little wanting.  But those almost teenagers were ideal during Sharing Time (not always the case!) which gave me quiet time to digest Lucy's primary teacher whispering to me about all the tears Lucy had shed during the Easter video their class had watched.  Death and resurrection.
 

My sweet girl, I thought as I watched Lucy from the back of the primary room.  She had recovered bravely from those moments of heavy emotion, and her teacher had obviously been loving with her, which I appreciated beyond words (there have been other similar primary moments and I'm so grateful for sensitive leaders/teachers).  I waited until late this afternoon before carefully inquiring about the experience.  Lucy immediately ducked her head, not wanting to discuss it.  My heart yearned to scoop her up like she was two, and rock and stroke and snuggle her.  But she is growing up.  I did hug her, but we agreed that she could think about it and let me know if she ever felt like talking it over.   
 

I ache for her sometimes.  But I don't worry about her.  All afternoon she was helping me with dinner and helping Spencer with his chores and praying the sweetest prayer over our Easter dinner (after hastily retreating to her room and returning to the table dressed in her fanciest dress up earrings). 

We hunted for Easter baskets this evening.  They were full of treasures.

So is my heart. 

I love Easter.

I love our Redeemer.  

 

Throughout our sweet Easter eve conversation one of things Spencer most wanted to discuss was why the Savior gave his life willingly. "Mom, why didn't He use his power?!" He asked me several times, referring to Christ's arrest and crucifixion. Peter-like he repeatedly protested the events, saying how he would have "bammed those soldiers right down!!" I told him the story of Peter's attempted defense of the Savior and how Jesus stopped the fighting and healed the wounded man's ear. All those details were sobering to my sweet boy. Then, later that evening, after our conversations had all wrapped up and we were getting ready for bed, Spencer said to me enthusiastically, "Mom, I know a true thing!" "What is it?" I asked with a smile. "Because Jesus died," he said carefully, "we can live again." Truly, amid all the heavy emotion and hard days, it is a beautiful thing to be learning together, me and them.