The celebration of Easter was different for many families this year. Like most everyone else, we celebrated Easter at home. That morning, I woke up achy and tired and made my way to the sofa. My caring husband brought me a hot cup of coffee and sat by my side. After spending a few hours with my husband and children, my exhaustion beckoned for me to take a nap.
I awoke to the sounds of my children playing together and my husband visiting on the phone with his dad. After warming up a simple lunch, we sat at our kitchen table to eat. After discussing the reason for the resurrection of Jesus, we decided to settle in our living room and watch Son of God together. I curled up under a blanket and slowly raised a cup of hot tea to my lips, fixing my eyes on the leafless branches outside the living room window. The gray haze surrounding the landscape obscured the sunlight.
As my eight-year-old snuggled close, we watched the scene of Jesus kneeling with his wrists tied to a post. The stones being moved across a placard counted the number of lashings Jesus endured. My daughter started pouring out questions. Why do they want a peaceful and caring man punished? Why are they pushing thorns down on Jesus’ head? Why is Jesus having so much trouble carrying the cross? Water welled in my eyes and a single tear spilled out. As it rolled down my cheek, I pondered over the many times we’ve read and studied the story of Jesus’ life, crucifixion, and resurrection. I wondered why my daughter has never quite grasped the depth of Jesus’ suffering even though she had heard the story many times before.
Preserving the innocence of a child is a precious thing. That shouldn’t keep us, however, from allowing them to experience the reality and depth of love that is revealed through many of the raw stories recorded in the Bible. I am very thankful for the opportunity to share with my children the realistic scenes that bring this story to life and remind us of God’s love in a way that my children could physically see.
Near the movie’s end, as an empty tomb was presented, I again looked outside, this time observing beautiful snow falling ever-so-gracefully onto the branches, decorating them with glistening diamonds. It seemed so fitting to see the beauty of the snow blanketing the once bleak landscape as we rest in the hope Jesus gives us through his resurrection.
Later that night, as I tucked my daughter in and kissed her goodnight, I thought about the special gift of being allowed to witness my daughter’s deep realization of God’s amazing love and sacrifice.
As I crawled into bed that night, I whispered, “Thank you, God.” and closed my eyes. I will always cherish and remember that special day of quiet meditation.
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