I awake to the sounds of a soft voice....
I turn to see the time...
Closing my eyes for a few more minutes I meditate on His choice....
Its a day of remembrance, a day full of honor, and day when He choose me.
A sinner, a life full of brokenness and sin. As a little girl I cling to a bible under my pillow. A bible that would be my comfort in times of struggle. A bible that would teach me about the cross and the grave.
We arise, still weary from a long night, and after we are all ready, gather around the table. Its Easter and things look a little different this morning than in years past. There are no Easter baskets filling our table. No eggs to be found, and no candy to indulge in. In front of us we think about the empty grave...we read.
We read about the angel, and the grave clothes, and the nails. We talk about the choice he made to die, we talked about the sins. We give him honor and praise. His presence fills our home. A holiness, a hush. We stop and pray. We meditate on the cross.
Across the room the old wood splintered and stained of age sits on our mantel. A homemade cross. Made from salvaged wood. A cross from the very walls of our home. Its a small reminder of that day. A way to keep our eyes focused when all around us the world is begging for more. Begging for me and my children to turn away from its importance. Begging in the midst of grocery isles for us to make other things more important.
We share with our children the importance of this day...we pray with them. We explain how we can walk with him all the days of our lives, and our desire for them to pass that love on. We pull out their first gift....A new bible.
Squeals of excitement fill the room, the smiles are priceless...the comments are of awe. Tears fill my eyes....its no Easter basket filled with new toys, no candy, no brightly colored eggs....and they are overwhelmed with joy.
Small blessings are wrote in each one with the hands of their father. He reads them in a soft gentle way, as he presents each child his own. We stop....little hands holding them tight.
In this moment we talk about the importance of sharing the good news. We present them with their second gift....the oppurtunity to choose to buy tracks or new bibles for those in the mission field. After all its Easter...that's what it is all about. His story!
All at once they seem to claim their choice....with smiles of little faces they are still full of joy.
We write down a list, to give to a Gospelink missionary, to order for the people in Vietnam.
I pray...that those little hands, and eager hearts to spread the gospel will flourish with the passion for souls as they grow. I hear my husbands voice instruct them to calm and we prepare to close out our family worship with one more gift. A gift of challenge. A gentle reminder that everything we do should be honoring to the Lord.
Every book we read should create in us wisdom that agrees with scripture.
And Every song we listen to will challenge us to become a disciple.
And every toy our hands play with will inspire us to be the kind of men and woman God has called us to be.
The grave is empty. We think one more time about the grave clothes laying motionless. We talked about this year being the beginning of new tradtions. Our heads bow and we close in prayer.
Easter to us has become a holy day. A day to focus on the cross. For us a day to not want, but to give...passing on God's word. In the hands of our children (and the generations to come) and in the hands of those around the world looking for a Saviour. The story of the cross.
May you and your family continue to see the love of our Saviour everyday as you think and teach your own children about the holiness of our Lord.