Now that I have a child, the days when they would just take everything — sheets, pajamas, blankets — outside and burn it after an illness makes a lot of sense. Throwing everything in the washing machine just doesn’t give you the same satisfaction as watching all those germs go up in flames.
On Easter morning, before he had a chance to see his Easter basket or get dressed in his brand new outfit, David threw up.
David’s been sick plenty of times, but this is our first time dealing with a stomach bug. And on Easter Sunday, of all days. We put David in the bath and Tom and I had a half-hearted conversation. Should we still take him to church? Should we go to our family Easter celebration? But what about the egg hunt? It was half-hearted because we knew the answer, we just didn’t want it to be true.
David loved his Easter basket. I had stuffed Easter eggs with Goldfish, and instead of letting him try his first ever chocolate bunny, he ate Goldfish for breakfast.
The day was gloomy anyway, so it almost seemed appropriate to stay inside all day in our comfy clothes and play with trucks, which is exactly what David wanted to do.
I started looking for David’s Easter basket (I got him a shovel and pail instead of a basket, which I thought was a stroke of genius) right after Valentine’s Day. And I spent weeks looking for David’s Easter outfit. I just wanted a nice spring outfit, nothing Easter specific. I wanted something he could wear for other occasions…so, hopefully, he will.
And I drove myself crazy about what I would wear. A maternity Easter dress? Who’s heard of such a thing? The only things I found that I really liked (I’m much pickier about maternity clothes than I am about normal clothes) was by Rosie Pope (ahem. ahem. ahem.) and, not even a hormone-induced craze could convince me to spend that much on a dress I might wear twice.
Meanwhile, Tom and I both admitted that we didn’t feel ready for Easter, the celebration of Christ’s resurrection. We didn’t feel like we had taken time to repent, prepare our hearts, reflect on the crucifixion, or be refreshed by scripture.
The lessons here are obvious. I don’t believe that God made David get sick so that I would realize how silly it was to use time I had set aside to read my Bible to look at Rosie Pope dresses. But I do think that, while I’m spraying stain remover on David’s brand new, vomit-soaked Easter socks, God is good to remind me that though Jesus died one death on the cross, but His mercies are new each morning.
There will be more Easters, and more Easter baskets, and probably (inevitably) more stomach viruses. (But when do kids learn to puke in the toilet? I checked BabyCenter.com but I can’t find that precious little milestone)
And the good news of Easter is that Jesus loves us and is pursuing us, even when we spend most of Lent shopping for Easter socks.
He is risen!
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