Memories of Easter

The three days of the year my Mom could force me to wear a dress: the first day of school, Christmas, and Easter.  Every other day of the year I could fight my Mom tooth and nail to wear pants or skirt; but on these three holidays, no temper tantrums or amount bargaining would cause my Mom to relent.  As I have grown older, my Mom has loosened the reigns a bit, graciously allowing me to choose my own outfits (within reason) for both the first day of school and Christmas.  However, on Easter, I still must wear a dress.  Despite her hardnosed dedication to dressing in “Sunday Best” on Easter, I cherish my memories of past Easters spent with my family, each defined by a unique Easter dress.

One of my first Easters was captured on tape when I was barely over a year old.  Unable to protest, my Mom had dressed me in the gaudiest Easter dress I have ever seen.  The amount of frills and lace adorning the garment were enough to make an Elizabethan Queen uncomfortable.  Surprisingly, the prison of frills allowed me room to move, barely, my arms and legs.  When my Mom placed an Easter basket in front of me, I reached towards the colorful array of toys, eager to explore the contents of the mysterious container.  Resorting to the traditional dump and explore method, I spilled the contents of the basket on the floor, hiding the surprises underneath a blanket of plastic grass.  The video shows me stuffing handfuls of grass into my mouth as my parents frantically tried to pull the slobbery masses of plastic from grip.  My earliest memory of Easter: the taste and feel of synthetic grass.

Since my parents were video tape junkies, another one of my early Easter experiences is also preserved in film.  From behind the video camera, my Mom played the “hot and cold” game with my older brother (5 years old), giving him hints to help him find his hidden Easter basket.  As he frantically explored the confines of the house, my Mom turned the camera to me, engaged in a comatose sleep in my Dad’s arms.  Obviously exhausted from the morning’s activities, I had decided to skip out on the candy hunting, content to spend the afternoon sleeping, cocooned inside the elaborately embroidered dress my Mom had stuffed me into.  But this disregard for her holiday planning was unacceptable for my Mom.  My shaking me awake, my Mom enthusiastically urged me to “FIND THE BASKET! FIND THE EASTER BASKET!”  At age 3, it was already clear that I was not a morning person.  As I groggily awoke, my Mom forced me to my feet and began shouting directions to me.  Confused, I stumbled aimlessly around without any real sense of direction or purpose.  Tired, I collapsed onto the ground, content to sit until the “game” was finally over.  To my parents’ chagrin, my younger brother reappeared toting his Easter basket along with my own.  You could almost hear my Mom debating whether to hide my basket again, desperate to catch the childhood milestone on tape.  Surrendering to my obstinate will, my Mom placed the arranged array of candy and toys in front of me.  Immediately, I snapped out of my drowsiness and began exploring the contents of my basket.  My brother, exhilarated that he had received two Smarties candies in his own basket, proceeded to dance around the living room screaming with joy.  These scenes are the memories of my fourth Easter.

Over the years, simple Easter activities have evolved into highly anticipated family traditions.  Every year, after compliantly dressing in an excessively elaborate ensembles, my family and I attended our church’s morning Easter services, participating in the singing of joyful hymns and pastoral readings.  Once our car pulled into our driveway, my brothers and I raced up the front steps, pushing each other aside as we frantically searched for our hidden Easter baskets. My older brother always found his basket first, followed by me and then my little brothers.  After organizing the contents of our individual baskets, my brothers and I proceeded to exchange and trade candy, swapping jellybeans for coveted Reeses cups and chocolate eggs for marshmallow Peeps.  Following our exploration of the baskets came Easter brunch with our neighbors.  Our kitchen was always filled with the scents of cooking ham, green beans, and fresh bread.  Before sitting down for brunch, my Dad said the Easter blessing, thanking Christ for his gift of salvation.  After eating to our hearts content, my Mom would sneak outside and hide dozens of plastic Easter eggs, each filled with quarters or other candy surprises.  When unleashed, my brothers and I tore through the yard, violently battling each other for the hidden eggs.  After finding each egg, my Mom compiled all the candy into one giant bowl for the family to share.  As Easter day came to a close, my family piled onto the family room couch to watch The Ten Commandments, concluding our Easter in the same way it began: centered on Christ’s death and resurrection.

While these basic traditions remained the same during my eighteen years living at home, I am able to see now the slight changes and moderations which accompanied my family’s growth and maturation.  As the number of children in our family grew, the contents of the Easter baskets grew smaller, revealing that my parents were forced to make a limited budget cover four children.  When I was seven and my older brother was nine, we stopped receiving chocolate bunnies and instead received chocolate crosses, revealing our acknowledgment of Christ as the reason for Easter.  In high school, my older brother and I no longer hunted for the eggs; instead, we hid the eggs for my younger brothers.  At brunch one year, my Dad suggested that my brother say the Easter blessing, becoming a new tradition that remains to this day for all of our family’s holiday meals. 

Today, my second Easter away from home will pass, yet the traditions of past Easters still linger in my memory.  I will wake up early to attend a morning Easter service at my church, joining my Texas church family in hymns and pastoral readings.  I will go with my friends to Easter brunch, relishing in my blessings of close friendships.  When I return to campus, I will Skype my family to watch my ten year old brother explore his Easter basket.  While I do all of these activities, I will of course be wearing the Easter dress my Mom mailed to me specifically for this holiday.