Easter

I learned an important lesson this year as a mother. God is not limited by age.

He is timeless and He works through all ages and with all ages. I've watched my baby respond to Him. I've watched my toddlers respond to Him. There is no "too young to understand" when it comes to God and His infinite love. He can not be politely restricted or reigned in.

This year for Easter, we did our best to impress on our little ones the power and meaning of his death and resurrection. We told them the story and let God do the rest.

To help the boys better understand the concept of sin. We sat them on the couch and asked them to name a few of the sins we struggle with. J and I wrote down a few of our sins and taped them onto the cross. I wrote down the sins each boy called out and then we taped theirs up to. This way the boys could clearly see that their sins had to be taken up by Jesus on the cross.

While the boys have heard the Easter story for several weeks now, I wanted the actual observance to make an impact and cutting things down to the final 12-18 hours seemed to make the most sense.

I decided to do a mini-sedar/communion time with the boys on Saturday night. We brought out our special plates and prepared toddler friendly sedar foods. Auntie J came to break bread with us. I prepared the meal and then sat the boys down in their seats. All the lights in the house were off with only the gleam of six or seven candles to illuminate our little bungalow.

"Jesus is the light. Our only light in a world of darkness." I explained. "Tonight we remember when Jesus was crucified for our sins."

When the meal began we passed around the freshly baked bread. "Jesus said, I am the bread of life." And we ate.

Apple juice filled the chalice at the center of our table. "Jesus said, I am the true vine." Small hands grasped the cup and they drank deeply.

We read the stories as we ate. Shared the pain and gravity of Gethsemane. Heard the lashes of whips and the accusations laid upon our spotless lamb of God.

The Bear was quite taken with the account of Peter slicing off the soldier's ear and was desperate to elaborate the story into a pirate tale of Jesus conquering the soldiers with his awesome might. I always long for that too when I read the story. We know he could have. He was more than capable. He carried the blood chilling foreknowledge of ripping flesh and searing pain, yet he went to his death willingly. How great the power of his surrender.

Darkness filled our space as we drew closer to the moment of observing his death. A stillness began to settle in. Despite the usual toddler shrieks and giggles, the boys eyes were round with curiosity. We finished our meal and I carefully led them down the dark hallway and into our bathroom.

No bubbles or toys this evening. No splashing. They slipped into the cool water and I washed their little bodies. I sang over them.

"Lamb of God, you take away the sin of the world. Have mercy on us. Grant us your peace."

The boys brushed their teeth by candlelight, then ran into their room. Once pajama-clad, we settled onto The Bear's bed and read an Easter story book. Cubby had a harder time focusing. The Bear sat still and listened hungrily.

Darkness shrouded their small room. They each blew out their candles. I held onto mine as each went to his own small bed. They nestled deep under covers and blankets. I opened my Bible to Isaiah 53 and read those ancient words of prophesy to them. They were quiet and still as I read. "By his wounds we are healed," they heard. I closed the Bible after the final verse was spoken. And then...

"Jesus said, 'It is finished.'"

I blew out the candle. The Bear breathed out quietly, "Jesus said, 'It is finished.'"

I said goodnight and kissed them. "Tomorrow we will run to the cross. We will see what God has accomplished. We will see victory over death. The darkness of death will be gone and the light of Jesus will blaze in glory."

The Bear whispered, "Yes."

And so they slept.

I woke up early on Easter morning, Slipped a few cinnamon rolls into the oven and went out into my garden. I clipped roses, plumbago, snapdragons and bougenvillas, heavy with dew and the promise of true hope. I placed boughs of purple duranta on our table, purple for the majesty of my king. I quietly stripped away the sins we had placed on the cross and covered the rich wood with a white scarf. Blue and white flowers graced the base of the cross as I heard the early morning stirrings of small children behind the nursery door.

J and I brought out instruments. Maracas, tambourines, any and all noise makers. We rushed into the boys room with joyful shouts, "HE IS RISEN! HE IS RISEN INDEED!!" The boys ran from their rooms to behold the cross.

Their sins were gone and Jesus had risen.