Barclay's first Easter.
Our little family on our first Easter together.
Holidays bring back so many memories and this Easter as I dressed my little guy in his Easter best (smocked of course:-) I couldn't help but being taken back to all the sweet years before.
I spent most of my childhood Easters in Charleston SC. At around five years old, my mom decided not to do Easter baskets for us, so that we could focus on the true meaning of what Easter meant...the resurrection of Jesus. Mom and Dad would ask us over and over again what Easter was really about, and we would say sweetly, "Easter is about Jesus rising from the dead." I must say, I am just now coming to really truly understand what Easter is about. Because really and truly, even though I knew what to "say", I really believed Easter was about dresses:-) I don't find it as much true here in the mountains as I did in Charleston, but there is a tremendous pressure to get the perfect Easter dress and to have new white shoes and ruffled socks. It was such a big deal! I remember running around town all day on Saturday trying to find shoes for everyone, bows and dresses. On Sunday morning, Eater morning, the Paul girls all were dressed in their best smocked dresses, with pretty white shoes and ruffled socks. All of our blond hair was curled and bowed (the bigger the better). I remember everyone admiring everyone else and their finery.
Something very endearing to me is that whenever my Dad was home from working (usually not very often), my Daddy would lay all of us out on the bed and put on our shoes. We would fold our legs under our bodies and giggle and say that we had no feet to put shoes on. One by one he would tickle our knees and say, "You must have feet if that tickles!" And we would die laughing and put our feet out to be fitted with the shoe. It was a long ordeal that never got old and one of my sweetest memories with my Dad.
We always had a big dinner at our house and then went over to my Aunt Lucy's house next door to have a cousin Easter Egg hunt. We would spend hours hiding and re-hiding the eggs. There was marsh, trees, Azelia and camellia bushes. It was never ending fun. I was always soooo jealous of my cousin Kathrine who was allowed to take off her Easter dress as soon as she was back from church, while we had to do our egg hunting in our dainty appareal. Big disadvantage!
I also remember attending a HUGE Easter egg hunt down town at the Calhoun masion. Other than the wonderful candy that was provided, there were also real ponies to ride, and best of all, baby chicks, rabbits and ducks that could be taken home.
Needless to say, all that pomp and circumstance (very fun pomp and circumstance), never allowed me the time to truly think about the significance of Christ not only dying for my sins, but rising from the dead! And maybe it is just something that comes with maturity.
Although I am certainly not against fun Easter egg hunts, and pretty outfits and pictures. I do want to remember, as a mother, to not put so much energy into those things. Instead to take time to focus myself on the joy of the ressurection.