I've been double-tagged. (is that a word? Is that allowed? The Queen, and Roofus (the woman, not the dog) apparently think that my grey matter is an organ which regularily gets out for its run. Too bad for the legs and torso that hold it all up, but one must begin somewhere.
And how timely. I've been thinking about Easter. Thinking and cringeing that I'm not the mom I wish I were when it comes to intentionally teaching my children. Its not as if I don't have my good intentions. I have the recipes for resurrection buns, and we've done the exercise in the past. Mostly it was experienced as licking a lot of nummy marshmallow off our fingers and eating a lot of buns.... Every year I remember what my friend Rosa did when her children were little, and how I've always meant to do it too. They made an easter tree out of a stick and hung plastic eggs on it. Each day an egg would be opened and inside was a symbol of Easter, and the name of someone to pray for that day. (Forgive me if I've got that wrong, Rose) Lovely, I always think. Then I freeze.
Easter is such a significant event for fans of Jesus. Significant as in: MOVE OVER CHRISTMAS! I remember what Easter felt like when we were kids. Church on Good Friday was a solemn event, as though every year we had to grieve his death, seemingly unaware of his imminent resurrection. But our bright, new, homemade dresses and freshly bathed skin whispered of the hope we would celebrate on Sunday, and Monday. (which we knew as "pinkste".... still don't really get that, always wondered if it had something to do with wearing pastels in the spring time...)
My mom and dad always seemed to have a pretty sensible approach to the question of the "secular" interpretation of the holiday. We always got a big solid chocolate bunny. We decorated eggs, made baskets out of paper strips, had hunts around the house if mom was having an energetic year. But the heavily spiritual componant was undeniable. We knew what Easter was all about.
But now I'm the mama and because I think too darn much, I often become paralyzed.
Its Good Friday morning, and Sam is watching cartoons with ketchup chip stains on his face from falling asleep on the couch last night. I'm contemplating doing my lap around town before heading off to the first family event. (Not the thrift shop lap, silly. The exercise one which I theoretically do.) I fear the holiday will be a victem of my laziness once again. Grandma in her usual generous style will spoil us with her grand spread, press bags of chocolate into our barely resistent hands, and pull out plates and plates of those to-die-for Easter buns with the cream cheese icing. We'll eat and talk and wish for spring. For new life.
So I was thinking that I needed to stop fretting about this. I was thinking how when I talk to God consistently about things that are beyond me, and I am patient, God works it out in a big, mysterious, fabulous way. And so I told God that I stink at teaching my children, and that I wasn't capable of doing it because I was just thinking too darn much.
So, thanks for the award.
And I feel like bending the rules a little. I present the thinking award to some non-bloggers.
1. Commenter Joanne. A thinker. And one day she will begin her own blog, which we will all enjoy.
2. My friend Ruth, even though she's already been nominated.
3. My husband Brian. who is growing in beautiful ways because he's not afraid to think out loud.
And because I am thinking about Easter, and how I should get out for a walk before all that begins, that's all I can think of for now.
May we all enjoy an Easter that teaches us hope and redemption.