Easter

I have wonderful childhood memories surrounding Easter.
From the time we were babies until we were much older,
my mother would make up Easter baskets and hide them.

If the weather was nice, we'd find them hidden away
among the pink branches of the flowering crab apple tree
or amidst the yellow forsythia bushes.

If it was too wet or cold, she'd hide them inside.
We'd find them on the stairways or cupboards.
One year I found mine hidden in the record player.

The baskets were full of marshmallow chicks, jelly beans,
and chocolate eggs. Sometimes we'd find our own
box of pop tarts or granola bars.

We would always boil dozens of eggs and paint them for hours.
Our hands were stained for days.

Easter holds many sweet memories for me.
There is however, a bitterness about Easter.
The cup Jesus drank was bitter.
I want the cup of fellowship that I offer Him
to be sweet, since He drank the bitter cup for me.

Just a few hours ago, I read the story of the crucifixion
in the book of Matthew.
Outside, the sky became dark and menacing.
I felt like I was a little girl again.
My seven year old theology was a bit off and I thought
that Jesus was crucified every year.
I would cry in my room by myself on Good Friday,
thinking that somewhere out there,
my Lord and friend was being crucified.

As I read the account today and the sky grew dark,
I began to weep, thinking, "Somewhere out there,
My Lord and friend is being crucified."

And even as I reminded myself
that it wasn't true,
I realized that perhaps it is.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jesus, keep me near the cross
There a precious fountain
Free to all a healing stream
Flows from Calvary's Mountain

In the cross, In the cross
Be my glory ever.
Till my raptured soul shall find
Rest beyond the river.