Pre-Easter Thoughts

Good morning, Reader!

I think it’s only right that I confess something that is pressing heavy on my heart.  I had a moment of weakness at Wal-Mart last night.  I broke down and bought the stupid jelly beans.  Don’t ask me why; don’t condemn me for the purchase; don’t fret over my waistline.  No—this, I believe, was a splurge I’ve needed to make for a while. 

Easter, to a child, is pretty much the equivalent of the super-old version of Black Beauty compared to Finding Nemo; it’s nice and all, but when you don’t really understand the meaning behind it, more superficial holidays take precedence.  I do, however, remember the cute little traditions that went along with Easter in my home.  We bought the egg-dying sets—the ones that only barely stained the egg but colored your hand for a month.  My dad would try as hard as he could to patiently teach my sister and I how to crack a boiled egg without squashing the soft inside, only to give up and do it for us.  Mom bought me an Easter dress every single year, and being the awkward child that I was, assumed that an “Easter dress” was to be worn on Easter and Easter alone.  (I mean, no one decorates their house with a Christmas tree after Christmas!)

I don’t recall many Easter egg hunts that I actually hunted in, but I can happily remember hiding the eggs, and in all honesty, it brings just as much joy, if not more.  But, among my absolute favorite traditions that I will not be able to participate in this year is this:  The Ten Commandments.  My mother is a woman who constantly moves, whether it’s cooking, cleaning, working, driving, or just twitching.  That movie is probably one of the only ones that I can specifically remember her annually taking two hours out of her day to watch, and that is pretty phenomenal. 

So I saw these jelly beans, and all the hype of Easter manifested itself within the muscles of my arm, which grabbed the silly bag, and then purchased the stupid candy.  Now, here I am, sitting alone in this dorm, listening to Sara Bareilles and Billy Joel, and periodically indulging in a jelly bean.  I am so blessed. 

Reader, I am not a wonderful person.  I have my own past that I’m still running from, and I’ve made mistakes that I’m still trying to smooth over, but is it not incredible that there is a God who sent His son to die for the sins of the world?  And because of that sacrifice—because of that love—I am held in the arms of a Savior!  How often do we forget that?  I mean, this week has been tough.  Bear with me for a moment as I recollect…  School was caving in on my sanity with papers, essays, and new exam dates.  My grandfather, who I have recently found that I have taken for granted for the entire eighteen years of my life, had a heart attack, and my grandmother is apparently beginning to show signs of her own health deteriorating.  Add in the emotional blahh of being a girl, and it was the hardest week I’ve ever gone through.  That is not to sound sorry for myself, Reader, so don’t sigh quite yet.  I am saying this because I found such beauty in breaking down and simply crying out to God for His enduring strength.  There’s a wave of all-encompassing love that just washes over the body when the heart reaches out for God.  It is what got me through the week.


I have a challenge for you.  Yes, it's corny, and a bit cheesy, and you may get a few strange looks if you shared this with your lab partner/coworker/the guy at the McDonald's drive through, but I hope you will do this one thing:  each day for the next i-don't-know-how-long (make it up) count a blessing at the end of the day.  Yeah, I know you've heard that before, but seriously!  Try it!  Here's mine:
The day after I found out about my grandfather, I was pressed to write a paper on mental health parity laws (gag), I needed to write an essay for a class that I hadn't even started on, I was having roommate issues, and all I wanted to do was take a shower after I went to the gym.  I turned on the water, and waited for a minute...two minutes...three...four...five...oh crap.  The hot water was out again.  I cracked.  
BUT, ten minutes later, when I finally warmed back up, I was sitting in my living room with another of my roommates when all of my blessings collided into my awareness.  My grandfather was still alive; my parents were in town; the shower wasn't too cold to get in; the essay didn't look too difficult; I already had a couple of pages of my paper done, so it wasn't like I was starting from scratch; if all else failed, I had a bag of M&M's as an afternoon pick-me-up; and best of all, I had an awesome cup of coffee in hand when I realized all of this!  Regardless of how trivial these things may seem, the knowledge that these things were there was the comfort that I needed--consider it a hug without arms.  God's grace is so amazing.  


Reader, my prayer for you is that you have a wonderful week full of counted blessings.  Until then, I'm grabbing another jelly bean.  =]