The sun was out, the line at Trophy Cupcakes was out the door and snaking around the corner, and I was at work selling bedding like nobody's business. In this "progressive" city, where hardly anybody's rear graces the pew of a church, you can bet your bottom dollar that the retail industry was poppin' as if it were any other weekend. But it wasn't any other weekend; it was Easter Sunday. I was a bit disheartened to not wake up and go to church with my family, or prepare the usual Easter fare with them at home. Yet somehow, the absence of tradition made the evening we spent together all the more inviting to silly diversions. And indeed, it was one for the books.
Now, as you don't understand the nuances of my family's interactions, bear with me, because this is probably going to be one of those "you had to be there" moments. Imagine if you will, a family of five. They have just eaten dinner down at Point Defiance on the Puget Sound, and have yet to partake in an Easter egg hunt. It's dusk, there are couples walking and holding hands, and cars are driving through the park at regular intervals past their parked car. Dad pulls a plastic grocery bag (Yes, Seattleites, other cities in Washington are still using plastic bags. The horror!) from the back end of the car, and in endearingly dorky fashion proceeds to place clumps of Easter eggs (a whole gamut of themes, including Hello Kitty, polka dots, and sports balls) on posts along a cement wall.
This is totally one of those instances mirroring the common movie scene where adolescents shrink down in their seats and cover their faces in embarrassment, thinking, "This is not happening right now. I am mortified." But upon their realization that family is more important than putting on a cool facade, suddenly the whole car is filled with increased levels of carbon dioxide from the can't-hardly-breathe laughter spewing from four people and a small dog, all of whom are doubled over in fits of hilarity at the sight of Papala. This is happening, and it's hilarious.
Beyond that, they hear the clinking in those eggs, and they know they can earn a couple bucks in quarters by getting their hands on some. Commence the abrupt opening and slamming of car doors, a quick sprint, and a full on grab session. Basket-less and scrambling to tuck eggs under their arms for maximum storage, they run back to the car to open their loot. Lincoln's head on one side, and the Lincoln Memorial on the other. Pennies. The eldest daughter shouts, "This sucks! This is total BS!" (a Bulldog reference for all you Frasier fans out there).
But oh, wait! What's this? Dad is holding a stack of $1 bills, fresh from the Federal Reserve and in consecutive numerical order. You see, one penny equals $1, and therefore the eldest daughter makes out with 18 pennies, and therefore $18. The fastest money she has ever made. Hoorah! There are bills to be paid tonight!
Well done, parents. Skip the jelly beans and Reese's, and get right to the heart of what matters: cash. Jesus is risen, right? God bless America.
All this to say, holidays and their ensuing traditions (or lack thereof) come in many different forms; different for each family, and sometimes varying from year to year within a single family. For mine, the absence of routine resulted in an Easter that none of us will soon forget. Memories are just like that. They come from unexpected moments, which when reflected on as a collective unit make you realize just how good life has been to you, scratch that, how good God has been good to you. In the midst of a silly secular Easter tradition, we were reminded of the blessing of loving family. It is because of my upbringing that I even have the mindset to bring full circle the story of an Easter egg hunt and relate it to the source of my family's joy, and that is the promise of salvation in Jesus Christ.
