Easter. There are always memories. Holidays usually come complete with their own, but I’ve found over the years, I cherish different ones now in different ways.

Back when I was a kid I dreaded the early morning hours immediately after we found our Easter basket. It had chocolate. We had church. The candy could wait. I could hardly. Neither could my dad. He’d usually take one anyway, teasing us and tormenting mom. She wanted my little sister and my own nice new Easter dress, coat and hat chocolate free for church and going to Grandpa and Grandmas.

Sometimes she’d get after my dad. Other times, chow down on chocolate and tease too. I’d just sneak. I couldn’t let my dad know or he’d demand another one or promise to tell mom. And my sister would have cried or ended up with chocolate drooling off her chin or smeared on her dress. Solution? Just sneak.

Easter was fun when our kids were little. Except for the year that I was in charge of hiding the eggs all over the house. We had a specific count, but one remained among the missing. It was weeks later when we turned on a pole lamp one evening we found it. Suddenly the house just reeked. The nose knew.

I hid it well. In the upturned shade of the pole lamp and right smack dab against the bulb.

Then it was Easter time with grownup kids and little grandkids. Those moments are fleeting, for all too soon, they go home or grow up. Then you remember thanks to a picture until next time.

There aren’t many willing to color Easter eggs with us at our age. They’re all too “big” it seems for that sort of thing, yet I think it’d still be mighty fun. So, Gramps, get ready. Bought the kit. Forgot the eggs. By the time I get the eggs, I’ll have misplaced the kit. Kind of nice, don’t you think? Don’t even have to hide the eggs. I can just hunt for the kit.

Ah, yes. And this year’s memories? Well, there was a lot of confusion.

Most of the kids and grandkids already had commitments.

Then I got a text message. THE confirmation. Dinner was in effect. Would I bring beans and buns? I hate beans, but had buns. But now I also had the makings of a self-inflicted mess too, and had no clue what to do to untangle it. I already had bought enough food for 20 or so before the first text, and just when we changed all our plans again, I was put on notice by our almost hostess.

She sent along a photo. She had several outbursts of splotches on her leg, arm and head, and something on her eyelid as well. Doctor’s appointment at high noon. I wrote back and said they looked like shingles to me.

I could have saved her the cost of the doctor. She had enough to replace her roof by the sound of it.

The doctor said yep, and I promptly said nope. Time for Plan B. Or was it C, D or E by now?

Our ham and potatoes, carrots and chocolate were instantly invited out to dinner. Beat cleaning and cooking and trying to work as well, so it was another, yes, thank you.

There are some wonderful memories already, this Easter season. For one, we had the honor of being a part of the annual Cross Walk in Reed City. We intended to walk a bit with the large crowd, and once I had taken a few pictures, we’d go have coffee.

Instead, my hubby was invited to actually help carry the cross, and accepted without hesitation. We then went the entire distance and it was amazing the thoughts and feelings that accompanied us from the Depot down through town to various locations, stopping here and there for praise and prayer, or to sing. It ended at the cemetery.

This special Easter season, I wish you moments of gentleness, moments of quiet, moments of being still, and moments of just being. Be present to the holy moments. Each moment is, you know.