The Real Story of Easter 2019

Early Easter morning, I almost texted my husband (already at church to sing with the choir for sunrise service) that never again, under any circumstances, were we going to give the girls Easter baskets.

On Easter evening, I shared a photo of my three little ones in their Easter dresses. Yes, happy, angelic-looking girls in beautiful dresses certainly was part of our Easter.

But that lovely photo doesn’t tell the whole story.

So this is the rest of the story of Easter 2019.

My five year old and three year old started fighting almost immediately after they woke up on Easter Sunday. Naturally, I had just stepped into the shower.

“Look, it’s our Easter baskets!!” I heard my five year old squeal, spotting the baskets on the couch.

“Girls!” I called. “Just stay up here. Don’t go downstairs. I’ll be there in just a minute.”

Within seconds there was scuffling, wailing, and then a piercing shriek. I jumped out of the shower, soaking wet.

“What is going on??!!”

At the top of the stairs, my five year old was sitting on my shrieking three year old. “She was trying to go down,” my oldest explained, “and I kept telling her no!”

Fast forward five minutes…I’m dressed, sort of, with my hair washed, sort of, and I have my 19 month old on my hip. We all trek downstairs together.

Knowing my husband is always a little bummed to miss Easter morning since he leaves for church so early, I managed a quick shot of three excited girls.

Then things went downhill again–fast. I realized my oldest had “claimed” the wrong basket.

“That one is not yours, sweetie,” I informed her.

“But Mom!! Yes it is mine!! Because pink is my favorite color!!!” she countered obstinately.

“I don’t like how you’re talking to me. No, it is not yours. See the other one has a 100 piece puzzle. That’s for you, not your sister.”

As she whined that she “needed” the pink basket, I steered her over to the right one.

Big mistake. My three year old had already started rummaging through it. “Noooo!!” she wailed. “This is MINE!!!”

My oldest started in with her siren-loud fake cry. “That’s MY puzzle!! She has MY puzzle!! She can’t even do 100 pieces!! Give me MY puzzle!!!”

There were pushes and shoves. There were puzzles, coloring books and chocolate eggs on the floor. I separated them, both crying loudly. I may have been crying, too, by that point.

Then my five year old yelled between exaggerated sobs, “Mom! Gabrielle is eating the candy with the wrappers on!!”

I looked down at my 19 month old. She looked up at me. Her little round cheeks were bulging. As she tried to smile at me with her completely stuffed mouth, a dribble of chocolate escaped her lips and dripped onto the couch.

That was the moment I decided that we were never, ever, ever doing Easter baskets again. And I needed to text said decree to my husband immediately.

But who has time to text when there are bits of gold and green foil wrappers to fish out of a little mouth. Or, rather, a much bigger mouth than I had thought.

Fuming, I pulled a chair over to our china cabinet, stepped onto it, and set all three baskets on top of the cabinet. It is the only surface in the house that they can’t reach, not even when they use diaper boxes as makeshift step stools (yes, they’ve done that several times).

“Now, you girls are NOT getting the baskets back until…” Until when? I almost bellowed: Until next Easter. But instead I finished, “Until you earn them back.”

The rest of the morning, my five year old was angelic, clearing breakfast dishes, fetching brushes and bows, and putting on her sisters’ shoes and coats. Shortly before we left, I set my three year old on the toilet with a book, and left to round up my youngest. A minute later I heard my five year old call from the bathroom, “Mom! I helped my sister! I wiped her!! Now how close am I to earning my basket??”

Driving home from a beautiful Easter service at church, it occurred to me that the ugly scene at our house a few hours prior actually illustrates best what Easter is all about.

Yes, Easter is smiling girls in lovely dresses, a church loaded with lilies and hyacinth, and special treats.

Yet, at the heart of Easter is how much we need a Savior.

Little ones react to Easter treats with whining and complaints because the basket is purple instead of pink. I cringe at their ungrateful attitude…but realize that I’ve done the same with God’s blessings for me.

Little ones fight and have meltdowns because they aren’t getting those special extras quickly enough. And I see the same selfishness and impatience in myself…when God isn’t giving me fast enough what I feel I need now.

And, just like my 5 year old, I still tend to do the right thing not because it’s the right thing to do, but because there is a basket of goodies I covet and I’m trying to inch myself a little closer to earning it.

No one has to teach these little ones selfishness, impatience and ingratitude. And no one had to teach us.

We’re so fallen that we don’t even know what innate unselfishness, patience and helpfulness would actually look like. Except that Jesus lived it for us. God knew how much we needed Him to come and live perfectly in our place. God knew how much we needed Him to die for our selfish and ungrateful attitudes and the ugly scenes they have created.

And after Jesus died to pay for our sins, putting things right between us and God, Jesus rose from the dead. We will not stay dead, either. We will rise to enjoy Heaven as a free gift, because we could never earn it. Jesus earned it for us.

This is the real story of Easter.

So when things get ugly, remember why. Then look ahead with confidence. Lasting beauty is yet to come.