Springtime. Allergies. Pollen. Egg hunts. Chocolate bunnies. Cute frilly dresses on little girls.
And of course. Jesus.
Don’t worry this isn’t going to be one of those ‘let me convert you’ posts! No I am not the super religious type by any means– I struggle constantly with it in fact. But I do try to incorporate God into our lives regularly. Usually with ideas of elaborate Christ-filled holidays inspired by Pinterest; however due to my serious procrastination problem I always find myself days before said holiday with nothing to show for it. And have to settle for simply going to church as my Christ-filled activity.
I guess some would say we’re the typical “punch in our Christian card on major holidays” type. I would tell you how I would normally respond but I don’t think I should mix talking about God and dropping a long train of expletives in the same post. But I will say that our infrequent church attendance isn’t from lack of trying… we just haven’t found a church home close enough that doesn’t conflict with naptime.
But Easter holds a special place in my life.
As I said, I have and continue to struggle with religion. After a particularly dark time fueled by depression and alcohol, I slowly found myself willingly wanting to attend church. I’m sure that the boyfriend at the time who dragged me to church every Sunday had a small part in that change but that’s about the only good thing that came out of that relationship…
I started going with my mom and sister… to a church we never thought we would ever go to. And we enjoyed it. More time passed and I slowly came out of the darkness. I watched my sister get baptized and had this new desire to do the same. But I held off, waiting until I was absolutely sure. Or rather I was waiting for a sign from God that this was what I needed or wanted. Weeks turned into months after my sister’s baptism. I probably read the bible more that year than I had my entire life. And then it happened. One beautiful Easter Sunday…
Like most churches there comes a point in the service where the Pastor asks you to pray a prayer to get to know God. And then afterwards if you prayed it or feel compelled to you come down and accept God into your life. Well… I had prayed this prayer for awhile. Basically every Sunday for months at this point. But this time I started to cry. And I just knew that this was the day. So when the Pastor asked for those who prayed the prayer to come down, I shuffled out of the pew and down the aisle. On my way down, a girl I’d never met linked arms with me and we walked and cried together with the others. She said she was happy for me as the service ended and we were all gathered into a backroom for us to receive more information on the journey we had just begun. I never saw her again, but I like to think that maybe she was my guardian angel or something? Or maybe I just have a very active imagination…
How fitting I accepted God into my life on a holiday dedicated to his return.
But yet I still struggle with religion and faith. I believe I read somewhere it was good to struggle with it… or I might have just interpreted it that way to make myself feel better. I’m no saint by any means. I don’t follow the bible to the core. If you asked me to give you a scripture I would literally Google one. I don’t throw “but the bible says” in arguments. Occasionally I too stray from the path and hope that I don’t stray too far again. Which is why I make an effort to include God in our daily lives. Especially now that I have a daughter. I don’t want her to think that Easter and Christmas are purely about gifts from mythical creatures.
Which is also why… regardless of whether I have to drag my aching body into the service on Sunday. I will. Because of that one Easter when something or someone moved me enough to make me believe. That little bit of hope to cling on.