I know better. I really do. But every once in awhile I do something crazy like run errands involving purchasing Easter Candy during the lunch hour. When I'm hungry. Maybe it was a rebellious reaction to the "spring cleaning" yoga class I'd just attended--one designed to detoxify our bodies from heavy, fatty, sugar-laden food ingested during the holidays and winter months. Maybe it was just too much detoxification for me in one day. At any rate, suffice it to say that a small chocolate binge occurred in my presence this noon.
Later on, when I was looking for Easter in the storage closet (where are those boxes I so carefully re-organized earlier this year? Where did I put them? I know the stuff is in clear boxes--oh! There they are. Right next to Christmas. Hmmm. Appropriate....), I began to reminisce about this holiday.
When our boys were young, we would tie a string to a note or picture and they would follow the string to find their baskets. This evolved into picture clues, then multiple word clues in multiple places, generally alternating between up and down stairs, so they would wear off a bit of excitement before digging into chocolate and jelly beans and counting the change we'd hidden in plastic eggs. We'd cut some flowers from our yard for the cross at church, and proceed to our place of worship, where they would participate in another egg hunt. Sometimes, there was an extended family gathering with ham and fruit salad.
This year, we'll celebrate Easter apart--three of us on a plane to California for the Great 2010 College Tour, the fourth happily at college with his buddies. But I kind of feel like I've already been given my Hallelujahs this year, since I happened to be in Washington, DC when the health care legislation was passed. (I'd also like to note for the record, that Joe Biden stole my line. I didn't actually say the f-word though. On Sunday, when I was saying I wanted to eat dinner somewhere where we could watch the proceedings on CNN, the youth I was with were unimpressed by the historic relevance of this moment in time. "This is history!" I exclaimed! "Everything you've just said is history," they said, with the swagger and confidence of youth. "Well," I responded to their response, "it's....it's...it's a BFD is what it is! A Big Freakin' Deal!" At which point the Rabbi in the room who'd been listening to our conversation quietly got up and started streaming CNN on the laptop through the projector in the room. Gotta love Michael Namath.)
So anyway, a part of my soul feels like Easter already came, even though tomorrow is Good Friday, and there are forces at work to tear down the hard-won victory. Isn't that how it always goes, though? Work for good, someone might wreck it--do it anyway? (I'm paraphrasing here...).
This year, I'll put out the bunny and egg decorations, I'll lovingly create Easter baskets (a day early, and 2 "to go" ones for the college roommates), and I'll pray and sing Hallelujah on Sunday, no matter where I am. And this Easter, I will also hold in my heart and celebrate the face book status I read yesterday, attributed to John Fugelsang: "Obama is not a brown-skinned, anti-war socialist who gives away free health care. You're thinking of Jesus." Yeah, that Jesus. He was a BFD, too.