a lot of things.
Today was hard. The only time I've missed Easter at my grandma's house was when I was living out west, or down south. Even then, I skyped, called, or got eggs that had been decorated by my family. I have more memories of the Easter bunny at my grandma's than at my parents' house. I even enjoyed playing the Easter bunny when I was still young and my cousins believed in him. I loved hiding the eggs in the designated rooms of Grandma's house, in really tough places. As we grew older, we had to be more clever in the hiding spots--everyone would still hunt them on Easter morning, and more often than not, they wouldn't find them all. Case in point: cleaning out EVERYTHING last fall from Grandma's, my cousin found an Easter egg. Who knows how long it had been there.
Easter is family time.
That's what Easter means to me. I know, I know, but it's Resurrection Sunday! I don't mean to diminish that at all. But every Sunday, even throughout the week, I think of Christ's atoning sacrifice for me. It is not exclusive to Easter Sunday. Time with all of my family together is rare, and special for me. Decorating eggs, playing pool, sitting in the living room watching whatever western Grandma had on TV, that's what Easter is.
This year it was not. No Easter baskets, or egg hunts. No socializing with family all in one place. This morning was like any other Sunday, but I knew that it should've been different.
We had a special Easter program in sacrament meeting. Lots of hymns, which I love, and messages from the bishopric.
One spoke on Gethsemane, and how amidst his suffering Heavenly Father sent an angel to help buoy the Savior up. He then shared a story of how when his wife was in a little pain while he removed a splinter from her hand, two of their grandkids came over and offered to let her hold their hands while grandpa removed the splinter. One even whispered, "You can squeeze my hand, grandma, when it really hurts." They were not able to take her pain from her, but they were able to offer whatever support, comfort, and love that they could while she went through it. Much like the angel helped Christ.
His point that when we are suffering in our own private Gethsemane, Heavenly Father has angels to help us. Sometimes those angels may be regular people that are inspired by a heavenly prompting, or they are real angels because no one else is able to be there.
Wanting time to think all my thoughts, without being embarrassed if I broke down in tears, I decided to skip out after sacrament, and go to the temple.
The temple is truly a house of God. As I walked around the grounds, I felt as though I were walking in the Garden of Eden. There was an abundant feeling of love, hope, beauty, comfort, and worth. At the same time, my heart was aching.
I remembered someone saying a couple of weeks ago, there is a plaque for the dog that guarded the temple during construction on one of the paths behind the temple. Prolonging my lap, I went off in search of it. There were three kids on the path--note: it is still visible from the temple sidewalk--with me. I heard some parents calling for them to return. The middle child, a boy, turned back, but the oldest and youngest didn't seem to notice. I kept walking, and I heard the parents call for "Abby" to come back. I turned to the girls and asked, "Is one of you named Abby? I think they're calling for you." The oldest one said it was she, and she grabbed the youngest by the hand and turned to walk back. The young girl, maybe two-years-old, shook off her sisters hand and turned back to me. She grabbed the edges of her skirt and said, "Soph...I Sophia." When I said, "Hi, Sophia, happy Easter." she got the biggest grin on her face and then turned to walk with her sister again.
Such a simple little thing, but I cannot tell you how much I appreciated it. Little Sophia was like an angel sent for me.
The atoning sacrifice of Jesus Christ is more than just a day to celebrate. It is to be remembered daily. It is a reminder of hope.
Because Jesus suffered for me and my sins, I know that I can be forgiven if I repent, because he already paid the price.
Because Jesus died, and was resurrected, I know the bands of death will not keep me bound forever. I know that I will see my grandparents again.
Because my Heavenly Father loves me, he sent his Son, Jesus Christ, to do what no one else could.
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