It was Easter

Just this past weekend

Reason to celebrate in a big way and I still buy chocolate bunnies and this year some gourmet cookies as well.  Years ago, it seems so long

our children, just like most on this continent, went to bed on Easter Sunday Eve in anticipation of what would surely be a tasty Next Morning.  These same children,

these days

are not prone to indulge in sweet treats.  Oh sure, every once in a while, but sugar doesn’t hold the same attraction as it did

then.

Sometimes the meal is over and everyone is on their way when I realize the bunnies and eggs are still where they were when the festivities began.  Granted, we don’t do the traditional

hide and seek

but most often, the table centerpiece consists of the Easter delicacies.

In younger days I remember rolling my eyes when people would make a statement about

“when I was young” or

“When I was your age”.

Ah yes, children in all of their childish wisdom.

I am of course now of a different mind and here we go with

I remember when...

Easter was a big big deal in the House house.  I can assure you it had nothing to do with chocolate although we did get a couple of eggs or bunnies or some form of Easter treat.

Easter was big because of what

it was, is and evermore will be.  Because of it’s significance.

It’s about dying and rising from the dead.  It’s about Love.

We celebrate because of the WHY

The Reason.

At Christmas we talk about the

Reason for the Season.  We don’t so much use that phrase for Easter and yet of course

everything that happens is always about

The Reason.

WHY

Well, at our house, because of who our parents were, celebrating anything was always about the heart of the matter.  Not much was done flippantly or hap hazard like.  Life mattered, matters.

The Reason we are here and live hope filled is crucial to our daily activities, schedule, purpose.

We laughed as much as the next family.  We enjoyed life

to the full

but there was always that underlying sense of

I Live For a Reason and this life is not just for me to use as I choose.

The days I am given are of eternal value.

Well, when a girl is 6 or 8 or 10 or even 12, eternity is not often uppermost in her mind.  For me, there was never a doubt as to the

validity, importance, gift of eternity but right there at the heart of my mind

was the thought of

black patent shoes.

Could there ever be anything more beautiful or exquisite than black patent shoes? Especially if there was every likelihood they would be, forever, just outside the realm of possibility.  To be seen through the store window, but never on my feet.

Shiny, perfect, beautiful.

When I was young

extra dollars were something I read about in Trixie Belden or Donna Parker Books.  Pollyanna was my favourite heroine.

Every September I got a new pair of canvas running shoes and a pair of sensible black leather shoes for school.

Every spring and just before Easter, we made the 50 mile drive to the nearest city where there was a shoe store and I got a new pair of Sunday shoes that would be worn, hopefully, for the first time on Easter Sunday.  The town we lived in had roads without pavement.  It was situated in a province where the winters were long and the summers short.  The spring season was often illusive and more often,

late in arriving.  I remember praying for days, with my eyes on

the new shoes sitting on the floor neatly side by side, just so, waiting for that glorious day when I could put them on and actually wear them

that God would Please melt the snow and make the sun to shine and dry up the muddy roads and Please, Please make it possible to don the new shoes.  Prior to the prayer about the weather conditions,

maybe early March,

I would pray,

kneeling beside my bed of course, because that was the posture God was most likely to be pleased with and so perhaps be more willing to answer int the affirmative when I asked

most fervently that maybe this year the new Easter shoes could be

black patent.

I realized He was the only one who could speak to the hearts of my parents and express His desire that I, disobedient and saucy as I was, should be granted my greatest wish (well, greatest next to that of being provided with a horse to ride after school and on Saturdays). What could be the harm in asking?

It seemed that the manufacturers of children’s shoes had no thought to the desires of children who had feet the length, width and depth of a 6 inch ruler.  My father was always adamant that we wear good quality shoes because as a child he had not.  He had the feet to prove the importance of good shoes and he wanted his children to be spared the discomfort resulting from unsuitable footwear.  As a result, we wore

very sensible shoes.

I still remember the year, I was ten, that somehow, by some miracle, the nice man at the shoe store had, in his back room where they kept the boxes of shoes, a beautiful pair of black patent that made me feel like

Cinderella.

He brought the box out, removed the shoes and gently placed them on my feet.  They fit and I am quite sure the angels were rejoicing in heaven at my answered prayer.

Glory be!  That day, I rode home in the back seat with that box filled with the black patent shoes and it sat on my lap  with the lid off and my hands ran over the shininess of those beauties and the whole way I thanked God for answering my prayer,  after all these years. Finally I had what my heart desired and that heart overflowed with thankfulness.

My mother sewed all of our clothes.

We had no money but we were dressed beautifully.  My mom had a way of finding fabric for a few pennies and sewing it up into loveliness.  THAT Easter, I had a new suit, yes jacket and skirt and black patent shoes to go with it.  I was careful to at least attempt humility, but pride was a tough opponent.  That Easter I sang especially loudly

Up From The Grave He Arose.  I knew it was true and even if my feet had been clad in sensible black shoes instead of those beautiful patent ones, the truth of The Reason for Easter, caused me, a lass of ten, to praise God for the sacrifice given for us

All.

This year I thought of the black patent shoes when, on Sunday morning I donned my black boots to wear to church.  Too cold, damp with a dusting of snow, to wear shoes, black patent or otherwise.  This year the weather is not reflective of the new life we thank God for

Still I’m glad Easter is in Spring Time.  The hope of new life comes at a time when we celebrate the giving of life. The sacrifice of life.  Not any life.

THE life.

Jesus is THE way, THE Truth and THE life.

I saw crocuses coming up in my garden this morning.  They know there is hope.  The God who created them, lets them know when the time is right to poke their heads up.  Spring is my favourite.

I’m thinking about

The Reason For The Season.  I’m sure research would turn up the reason for the bunnies and candy and hiding stuff and finding it.  The grownup little ones of ours who leave the chocolate on the table

still appreciate the celebrating.  Whether it be Christmas or Easter, black patent or boots, new clothes or old, we have, I hope, passed on to them the importance of

celebrating the WHY

We teach our precious ones about The Reason for The Season because it is good for them to know it.  God doesn’t need us to remember.  He wants us to do it because He loves us and He knows it is good for us to remember.  It’s good for us to pass the remembrance from generation to generation.

The Reason, The Why

is

But God shows His love for us  in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us

(Rom. 5:8)

Hallelujah what a Saviour!