Easter baskets, God, and Graham

Today I am dropping my son Graham off at the airport for a 12-day business trip— an amazing adventure and work opportunity rolled into one. I’m so happy for him. But I’m also keenly aware that this will be the first Easter in 23 years that we have not celebrated all together as a family. It marks a moment where from here on in, perhaps, things like the family being together are no longer in my control.

I’ve learned a lot about what is and isn’t in our control over the years. Now, as I near the final weeks of my MA Theology program, I smile to see the distance I have traveled in my faith since the early years with my children. To celebrate, I thought I’d revisit a passage from Baptism by Fire:

It was bedtime, just before Easter, just after my thwarted phone conversation with the man from the church who would not let me fake it —not this time—when I found myself making preparations. I reached for The Picture Bible on Graham’s shelf. It had been a baptismal gift and was as yet uncracked.

“You know, honey, maybe it’s time to learn a little bit about Easter.”

“I know all about Easter. The bunny brings a basket and hides it. Remember last year it was in the shower?”

“Yes, but it has other meanings. There are other parts of it,” I said as I fumbled with the book, thumbing blindly. Where exactly is the part about Easter? Why don’t they have this thing indexed by holiday?

“So what’s the other part?” Graham asked matter-of-factly.

“Well,” I said, looking up from the book and winging it, “you know about god and the angels?”

“They’re up in heaven, with Uncle Michael.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Well, the other thing is that what a lot of people believe is that god had a son named Jesus. And that, um, the story of Easter is that Jesus—” Jesus what? What’s the story of Easter? Oh, yeah, died on the cross, buried, ascended —shit, I can’t tell him that. “Let’s just say that Jesus was a really smart guy with a lot of ideas about god and how people were supposed to love each other and stuff, and some people didn’t like what he had to say, so they, well, they didn’t want him around anymore.”

“Why didn’t they like his ideas?”

“I don’t know.”

“What did they do to him?”

“Well, they killed him.”

“He’s dead?”

“No, actually, I mean … well, the big part of the story is that after he died, he came back—”

“He wasn’t really dead?”

I had just recently gotten him to understand that when people die they are dead; they don’t come back, not ever. “Well, it’s kind of complicated, but anyhow, people were really glad to see him again, and, I think we’ll save the rest for when you’re a little bit older.”

(from Baptism by Fire: The True Story of a Mother who finds Faith during her Daughter’s Darkest Hour, pp 35-36)

Wishing you all a blessed Holy Week. And my dear son Godspeed.
Heather