Easter Day

Today was a good day, a slow day. Mostly spent at home with the family. We rose lazily, first Jesse and Zoe, then Miles and I. Jesse made blueberry pancakes in the shape of rabbits, and the children both enjoyed them. Their baskets were loved as well; full of books, toys, art supplies, musical instruments, and seed packets.

Over the past week I have struggled with how to celebrate Easter with the children. In fact I struggle with most holidays that involve melding Pagan traditions with Christian traditions and slathering the whole thing in a Hallmark store. Jesse and I love celebrating, and we want the kids to have the joy and spirit of celebration without getting too caught up in the commercialism. It's a challenging balance that I imagine will be one I will struggle to maintain.

This morning, however, with typical grace, nature brought the perfect lesson of Easter. Even two days ago the garden was still bare, but this morning I spied the first beginnings of our seedlings. We went into the misty garden to peer at them in the damp earth, the promise of things to come. Lettuce and carrot, radish and spinach.

If you think about it, it all comes down to that dirt, and those seeds, and these rainy mornings. One day Zoe was just a few cells, nothing of herself really, just her parents. I grew her from me, with simply the nourishment of elements that came from that earth. And even after her birth, she ate for many months solely what I could provide. I look at her now, less than thirty pounds and know that I grew well over two-thirds of her from my own flesh, or from the milk synthesized from my own blood. Then she also grew from our love, our compassion, our wisdom, our arms, and we from hers. And Miles in his turn as well. And that is the spirit of Easter, this renewal. These seedlings, a reminder.