What a joy it is to look at the calendar and see—oh my goodness—that divine, tiny little word: Easter.
As far as I can remember—believe it or not—Easter isn’t just about a big, chocolate-filled bunny. Of course, I have a bad addiction to that lovely, sweet treat, so the joy of holding chocolate in my hands is obvious. However, there’s so much more to it than just the chocolate feast.
As a child, I was more devout and observant than I am now. I was fortunate enough to experience a multitude of themed Masses, including the Easter Mass, which was brilliantly organized by a passionate team that literally brought the Scriptures to life for us. I loved the solemn, silent atmosphere of the worshippers sitting on their wooden benches, listening as I told them a part of the story of their Savior or portrayed a major character in that story. I loved being part of the story.
I have some really funny memories of visits to my grandparents’ house. As I got older, the surprise of receiving that precious chocolate gold wasn’t quite as big. I remember that my maternal grandfather would send us straight to his bedroom to fetch our treasure from the chest-style freezer. We loved crunching on our chocolate-filled “rabbit ears” while playing in the pile of coats on the bed—before getting scolded for playing in the bedrooms, of course. Then I’d have to face my grandmother’s ham, which must have been delicious, but since I’d always hated ham… let’s just say I’d nibble on my vegetables to make the moment last.
It’s hard to beat my uncle, Mr. Bingo from Thetford Mines, when it comes to funny Easter moments. We’d all laugh watching the little chocolate chicken—which he’d place under the lamp shining on his famous bingo balls—melt throughout that endless Sunday pastime.
I loved helping my paternal grandmother prepare the meal so much. The salad held no secrets for me. Filling the table with dishes and pots that smelled so good—it almost beat out the little chocolate sheep that was waiting for us in the living room.
For me, it’s much more than just an Easter egg. It’s a series of memories, a trip down memory lane to a time that feels so close and yet so far away. The big family dinners, the laughter and jokes, playing with my cousins, and sharing chocolate with my brother. Nostalgia and pure happiness coated in chocolate—colored or plain—and guaranteed family love.
As a parent, I try to limit chocolate in my young children’s diets, but I also try to show them the beauty of family togetherness beyond the holiday itself, beyond the raw sweetness of sugar. I try to show them the beauty of sharing during the holiday—and how to avoid breaking their teeth on a solid chocolate bar!