Easter

I was dreading today. I kept forgetting this weekend was Easter. Someone or something would remind me and the dread would seep into my heart. This was to be the first Easter Damon could hunt eggs. I was excited; the boys would get to do this together. I figured it would be one of the only Easters they would get to this little boy thing together, soon Isaiah will be too old.

But, today is orange, not black. An image of Damon running around with that amazing Damon grin on his face finding Easter eggs has been playing on my internal movie screen over and over. It’s as crystal clear as if I had watched him do it. I’m filled with the rolling baritone of my Father’s
laugh as He watches my son find egg after egg. Surprised excitement has a special look on the face of my child. His puffy little lips form a perfect “O” his eyebrows try desperately to jump into his hair and his little hands reach for the ground and the air at the same time. It’s impossible to describe. I’ll show you a picture sometime.

Will and I laid in bed, wrapped in each other’s arms. It’s been a battle to stay intertwined when grief takes us in such different directions. I wondered how God feels about Easter eggs on the day that is supposed to be a celebration of His perfect Son’s resurrection. I almost laughed. God does not have an identity crisis. He knows who He is. He is not intimidated by a bunny. He loves the children. The hunt in Heaven must be phenomenal, God laughing all the while.

I shared my thoughts with Will. We narrated the hunt together. “Whass dis?” Damon asks “that’s an Easter egg” Jesus answers, grinning ear to ear…”whass dis?” Damon asks at the next stop “that’s another Easter egg” comes the jovial answer. “It’s a good thing God is infinitely patient”
I laugh through the tears. Will imagines God saying “you’re so much like your mother.” “He knows that” I answer “He made D that way.”

Today I am filled with that rolling baritone laugh and my son’s beautiful excitement. The tears still come, in waves, in stops and starts, in sobs but I’m clinging to this moment of peace, to this joy. My baby is hunting eggs with Jesus. Jesus is alive.