She stumbled into the kitchen for a drink and caught me red-handed. I thought she was asleep. Thought they were all asleep as I tidied up the counter and swept away the last crumbs of dinner.
Until she walked in. Fly-away curls tousled from sleep, eyes open just wide enough to grope her way to the sink, she squinted at me and squealed. Squealed loud enough to wake every last one of my finally quiet clan.
She couldn’t seem to find a glass for water, her half-asleep hands opening the wrong cupboard and grabbing a cereal bowl instead. Yet through those slitted baby blues, she’d spied the tree. And the garbage can.
You can’t throw away the Easter tree, she said as she abandoned her quest for water and spun to face me.
I felt like Fern’s poor father in Charlotte’s Web, confused and slightly annoyed by this self-appointed rescuer in purple pajamas.
But, honey, these branches are brittle and breaking. They were dead from the start. If we bump them, they’re going to make a mess all over the table.
She stood, silent. Blinking. Trying to fish for a reply in her groggy mind.
Easter’s not over, she said finally replied. And then spun on her fuzzy-stockinged-feet and padded out of the kitchen. She tripped over her own tired feet in the hallway and then turned once more to look at me, the tree killer still standing dead branches in hand.
That’s why I opened all those eggs, Mom. To remind us of the empty tomb.
I stared at the splintery limbs, each adorned with a strand of fading blue yarn and a plastic pastel egg, opened wide.
Easter’s not over.
Why hadn’t I thought of that?
I carried the straggly tree back to the kitchen table and set it down gently.
Who was I to covet silken tulips over empty eggs?
For now, we’d leave the fragile limbs in the place where they’d always been.
Leave them in that place where our plates overflow and words spill fast and frantic. In that place where fourteen feet cram close and seven lips speak loud, and knuckles rap drumbeats and silverware clanks steady.
Because if we let it, Easter invades the very heart of our home.
And empty eggs belong in that place where bodies are nourished and souls are fed and prayers are uttered and tales are told.
Because when we really stop to think about it, without that empty tomb all this clanging and crying, prattling and praising would be mere noise. This table where we gather would be filled with food but empty of love, crammed with bodies but devoid of life.
And isn’t this what it means to live as Easter People? To live full lives because of an empty tomb. To find Him here, in the rattle and routine of our days because He was not there, behind the stone on Easter morning.
The clock read midnight and my bones cried for sleep, so I reached for the kitchen lights, left the tree sitting in darkness.
But not this home. This home is radiant with Light.
The Overflow: My response is to get down on my knees before the Father, this magnificent Father who parcels out all heaven and earth. I ask him to strengthen you by his Spirit—not a brute strength but a glorious inner strength—that Christ will live in you as you open the door and invite him in. And I ask him that with both feet planted firmly on love, you’ll be able to take in with all followers of Jesus the extravagant dimensions of Christ’s love. Reach out and experience the breadth! Test its length! Plumb the depths! Rise to the heights!Live full lives, full in the fullness of God.
-Ephesians 3:14-19
Have you spotted Jesus outside of that empty tomb? Maybe in an empty basket of laundry or a lingering near a not-so-empty sink of dishes? I’d love to hear about where you’ve seen Him lately. Holy in the humdrum? Glory in the grit? Do share!
Just post a comment and you just may be the happy recipient of this marvelous new book. I’ll be giving it away on Friday! Check out yesterday’s post for all the details!
Oh I am so thankful to be able to comment…blogger has been wigging out on me…and I have not been able to comment for days! I feel like crying..this is my communication with my dear friend! I love the lessons kids teach us…especially yours! 🙂 I think we are coming to Pella! I will try and call you soon and talk to about details and see if we can get together during this crazy busy time for you!
“To find Him here, in the rattle and routine of our days because He was not there, behind the stone on Easter morning.” Amen. So many times our children (and grandchildren) show us what is truly important and worthy.
That’s so sweet. Good thing she caught you before you threw it out and couldn’t replace it should it be missed. I’ve thrown things away that I didn’t know were precious until they were gone forever. I’m visiting from Jennifer’s blog.
Until she walked in. Fly-away curls tousled from sleep, eyes open just wide enough to grope her way to the sink, she squinted at me and squealed. Squealed loud enough to wake every last one of my finally quiet clan.
Oh I am so thankful to be able to comment…blogger has been wigging out on me…and I have not been able to comment for days! I feel like crying..this is my communication with my dear friend!
I love the lessons kids teach us…especially yours! 🙂
I think we are coming to Pella!
I will try and call you soon and talk to about details and see if we can get together during this crazy busy time for you!
Thank the Lord that Easter is not over but each morning of our dark nights it dawns and breaks in with new life from an empty thing!
I absolutely love how she had opened all those eggs, to illustrate the empty tomb.
Easter is here!
Reminds me of the song, Every Morning is Easter Morning From Now On …
Happy Easter. I think your daughter would agree that I can still say that today. 🙂
Hi Friend! You don’t have to enter me in the book drawing but I do love the way the Message shares God’s love in Eph. 3 – beautiful!!!!!
~LPL buddy 🙂
“To find Him here, in the rattle and routine of our days because He was not there, behind the stone on Easter morning.” Amen. So many times our children (and grandchildren) show us what is truly important and worthy.
love it- I learn from my children each day! 🙂
No, Easter is not over. Great thought! Nice to meet you Alicia.
That’s so sweet. Good thing she caught you before you threw it out and couldn’t replace it should it be missed. I’ve thrown things away that I didn’t know were precious until they were gone forever. I’m visiting from Jennifer’s blog.
The lessons we can learn from the words of our children are priceless!
“Through the mouths of babes” He often speaks more profoundly than through the best orator on the planet. Beautifully written, Alicia and well-said. 🙂