When I was a little girl, there was no question that my family would spend Easter weekend with my grandparents and attend Sunday church services with them. This also meant that my sister and I would wear frilly spring dresses and our patent leather white shoes. Some years I had dainty little gloves, a hat, and white ankle socks with lacy turn cuffs. Easter photos were non-negotiable and were usually taken in front of a giant evergreen tree in my grandparents’ yard. When I got married and had my own children, the traditions were similar. I dressed my son and daughter in coordinated spring outfits, and we always took lots of pictures–only eventually we were no longer using bulky cameras but instead using our cell phones to capture the memories.
But time passes and things change, don’t they? My grandparents are in heaven, their house is gone, and the evergreen tree no longer stands. My children are too old for me to dress in coordinated outfits (though I would if they’d let me) and are old enough to have their own lives and their own plans. This Easter my husband and I found ourselves sitting in church without our children next to us. We were blessed to have a dear friend’s daughter in town; she was an overnight guest and attended church with us. But as I looked around the sanctuary, it was painfully obvious that things are different for us now. I saw many families who took up an entire row because they had all their adult children and extended family in town for the holiday. I saw lots of young families with their children sitting next to them, all in matching pastel outfits and stretched out across the row like stair steps. I saw dads holding infants and moms wrangling toddlers. I couldn’t help but feel sad that my Easter didn’t look like it used to.
Then of course the Easter photos flooded social media. My Facebook feed was nothing but smiling families all dressed up and posed for the annual Easter pictures. No matter how far I scrolled, there they were–children with Easter baskets, families at church, and multiple generations standing in front of their own giant evergreen tree smiling for the camera. The only Easter picture I took was with our special house guest. (A sweet blessing for which I’m thankful, but not the same as years past.) This post is not to make all those people feel guilty for sharing their Easter pictures.
This post is for the people who didn’t have any Easter pictures to share.
Perhaps you’re like my friend who is homebound and celebrated Easter via the internet while he live streamed church. Perhaps you’re like some of my friends in care homes who would love to go to church or to family’s house for dinner, but they need public transportation that allows them to remain in their wheelchairs and those buses don’t run on weekends or holidays. Or maybe you’re like my nursing home friends who don’t have any family left to visit them and they spent Easter like they spend every other day–in bed watching tv or perhaps playing Bingo in the dining room.
If you found yourself having an Easter like that, here’s what I want to say to you: You are not alone. You are not forgotten. You matter. You are loved.
In full transparency, my Easter was not spent alone. I did in fact get to see my children. My small little family all ended up together at my parents’ house for Easter dinner. (Though we did totally forget to take a group picture!) So at the end of the day, I sat down with my journal and decided to turn my thoughts away from what was making me sad about my Easter and toward all the good things about the day. When I started listing them, there were so many! Yet I couldn’t stop thinking about all the Easter pictures that were NOT on Facebook. There weren’t photos of all the people who spent Easter alone, who would give anything for just one more Easter with their mother, their spouse, or their child. There weren’t pictures of the people who spent Easter shut in their houses alone or lying in the bed of the nursing home.
If you were one of those people, it may feel like the world has forgotten you. You may even feel like God has forgotten you. Friends, Easter reminds us that even though we may feel alone, God has not forgotten us. In Isaiah 49: 14-16 we read: But Zion said, “The Lord has forsaken me; my Lord has forgotten me.” “Can a woman forget her nursing child, that she should have no compassion on the son of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you. Behold, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are continually before me.” Notice God didn’t rebuke Israel for feeling abandoned by Him. He can handle our feelings. He invites us to come to Him with all our fears, doubts, and questions. God says, Do mothers forget their babies? Of course not! Even if that were possible, it is not possible for God to forget. We are engraved on His very hands.
Think about the worst scar you ever had. It’s likely still quite visible, right? And when you see it, you vividly remember how it got there, don’t you? God says that’s how it is with us. We are scars on His hand. Scars on His hand. Revelation 5:6 tells us that Jesus still has visible scars from His crucifixion. Even if Jesus could forget us, which of course He cannot, He still bears the scars of His sacrifice for us on the cross. His love for us is forever etched on His hands.
The last part of that passage in Isaiah says that “your walls are continually before me.” The walls are a reference to the walls of Jerusalem–the walls which were broken down and destroyed while the Jewish people were in exile in Babylon. What does that mean for us? God sees our condition. God knows what we are going through. He is continually aware of our brokenness, our loneliness, and our tears. God has so greatly demonstrated His mercy and compassion for us that we never have to question His love. John 15:13 says, “Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.” Friends and family may leave us. Things in our lives may change. God will never leave us and He never changes.