Easter Disparity
Many moons ago, when my knees stood closer to the ground, Easter Sunday meant sitting through long homilies, shivering in the cold "spring" air, and eating Easter dinner with just ourselves. I remember thinking that when I was older, I'd like to have family live close so that we could have cars lined up in the driveway and half-way down the street like the neighbors did. I remember thinking about all the ways I'd make Easter special for my kids: lots of candy, Easter egg hunts, family laughter, and hugs.
And then, life happened. Two kids turned into three and then four. We didn't live near family, and with school schedules--theirs and mine--traveling in the spring wasn't always feasible. I, especially, got tired of driving like a maniac on Good Friday only to drive like a maniac back home on Easter Sunday. And in recent years, with four kids and two parents who spend time with students, I find that viruses breed by the dozen (or more) right around Easter time.
So for the third year in a row, we stayed at home. And instead of rushing here and there and everywhere, we calmly proceeded to early mass, then headed to our friends place for brunch. A little bit of good food, a whole lot of coffee, and one Easter egg hunt later, we walked home, threw in some laundry and drove to the nearby metropark. Sixty-five degrees and sunny meant that frolicking in the creek was not frowned upon. And then, after a quick clean-up by the kids, the best Easter gift of all: take out pizza for dinner. No muss, no fuss, right?
I can't say that I ever envisioned serving my kids pizza for Easter dinner, or that I'd be happy with an empty driveway on such a holiday. But sometimes, what we think will be good for us and what actually is good for us don't quite match up. And this time, I'm okay with the disparity.
And then, life happened. Two kids turned into three and then four. We didn't live near family, and with school schedules--theirs and mine--traveling in the spring wasn't always feasible. I, especially, got tired of driving like a maniac on Good Friday only to drive like a maniac back home on Easter Sunday. And in recent years, with four kids and two parents who spend time with students, I find that viruses breed by the dozen (or more) right around Easter time.
So for the third year in a row, we stayed at home. And instead of rushing here and there and everywhere, we calmly proceeded to early mass, then headed to our friends place for brunch. A little bit of good food, a whole lot of coffee, and one Easter egg hunt later, we walked home, threw in some laundry and drove to the nearby metropark. Sixty-five degrees and sunny meant that frolicking in the creek was not frowned upon. And then, after a quick clean-up by the kids, the best Easter gift of all: take out pizza for dinner. No muss, no fuss, right?
I can't say that I ever envisioned serving my kids pizza for Easter dinner, or that I'd be happy with an empty driveway on such a holiday. But sometimes, what we think will be good for us and what actually is good for us don't quite match up. And this time, I'm okay with the disparity.
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