How My Son Saved Easter
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It was with high hopes one Easter several years ago that I whipped together a batch of homemade salt dough, ready for the hours of fun family time with my children that would result. As I mixed, cooled, and kneaded, I imagined our cozy family of four all scooched up close around the round kitchen table (never mind that ours is rectangular), laughing together as we fashioned little clay shapes that would become an Easter centerpiece. Of course, it would be identical to the picture in the craft book—a delicate bird's nest cradling tiny blue robin's eggs.
In this picture in my head, we were each doing our small part. My boys were squishing dough through the garlic press in a beautiful cooperative effort. My husband and I were gently extracting every ounce of teachability from the moment. I envisioned how we would talk about working together as a body, each one with his unique role that added up to a perfect whole. We might talk about the symbolism of the eggs as new life, or the nest and the way God can make something useful and good out of the scruffy, old twigs in our lives. Oh, the fun we would have!
"Hey guys," I hollered up the stairs. "Come on down. I have a project for us to do."
Over the background noise of incessantly cheery video game music, I distinctly heard groans. "Do we have to?" said one of the boys, or maybe it was both.
I searched my brain for an answer. This wasn't in my script.
"Well, no, you don't have to," I stammered. "But it'll be fun. We're going to make an Easter centerpiece." My enthusiasm began to wane as my fantasy family was slowly replaced by my real one. Without wanting to, I recalled my last attempt at family crafts time. Or maybe it was the last dozen attempts. Into my memory came the beautiful origami paper that I finally conceded would never be folded into little paper cranes (we sold the paper at the church flea market). Next came the cross-stitch kits I had poignantly passed on to two young girls the previous summer, finally acknowledging that we were not to be a cross-stitch family, either. To my dismay, the memories just kept coming.
"Guys? What do you say?" My then-12- and 13-year-old sons were kind and sensitive and all that, but the choice between Crash Bandicoot video games or a spiritually significant craft project with Mom was a no-brainer.
"Uh, Mom? Mind if we don't come?"
"No," I faltered. "But if you change your mind … it's gonna be fun."
I sounded lame even to myself.
My husband was happy in the garage doing chores, so I decided to make the nest and eggs myself. It would be fun. They'd see.
A couple hours later I had my centerpiece. Not precisely like the picture in the book, but close enough. I called my friend, a kindergarten teacher, to tell her about the project—at least someone cared—and even suggested it might work for her class. I went to bed a contented woman.
Originally published in: Christian Parenting Today
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Easter
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Average User Rating:
Kimm
Thanks for the encouragement. I tend to feel so much pressure to make Christian holidays "more spiritual." What could be more spiritual than acknowledging the death & resurrection of our savior? Thanks for helping me see that it's not up to me to forcefully hammer home theses truths in planned lessons and activities. The Holy Spirit can use my willingness and submission to impress God's truths upon my children without all the forced family fun.
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