Easter Sunday

When I walked up the front porch Sunday morning after work, I saw a sign posted on the front door. I could tell right away it was drawn by my daughters. The message: "Welcome Easter bunny! What did you hide us?"

It was the first of many pictures stuck up about the house of the Easter bunny and eggs. I was warned before I left for work Saturday -- Dad, I was told, get home early so you don't scare away the Easter bunny! And don't hit him with your car!

Good advice.

When I woke later Sunday morning, my oldest daughter had drawn me another Easter bunny picture with the words: Happy Easter, Dad! It was dropped on my forehead.

The kids were excited about Easter.

My wife had made baskets for them and colored eggs earlier in the week. My mother sent some nice gifts in the mail that arrived Saturday. We spent the day as most families -- took the dogs to run in the park, the girls played outside with the neighbors, I snuck in a short bike ride (6 miles only) against a 20 mph headwind.

Explaining

So, how do I explain Easter to the kids? Like all college graduates, of course. I got them a book.

The Saugatuck library had a good children's book on the holiday. It talked about spring, rebirth in nature, rabbits and worked in the resurrection (sans the morbid crucifxion images that Mel Gibson finds so appealing). When we read the book and talked about Jesus and Easter, my youngest said, "So we all believe in Jesus, right Dad?"

My college education paid off here. I pulled out another book -- a children's guide to different religions of the world. We talked a little about Muslims and Jews and Buddhists. Then my daughters pointed to an image and said they recognized it -- it is the symbol I wear on a chain around my neck.

I explained it was the OM symbol and a little about Vedanta, and emphasized that not everybody believes the same thing about God.

"So what are we?" asked my youngest.

"Anything you want to be," I responded.

They looked confused. I told them if they wanted to talk to Jesus, that's OK. If they wanted to chat with Krishna, that's OK, too. Muhammed was OK. Anybody they wanted who told them that love, acceptance, understanding and peace were good, that's OK.

My oldest asked one more question: What's OM, Daddy?

As I tucked them in, I told them it was sound of the universe, the vibration of everything, Brahman, the past, present and future that binds everything together, the holiest of words, and that if they closed their eyes and concentrated, and listened to their very soul, they'd experience it.

"Dad," my oldest said as I flipped off the light, thinking I had reached my children in a golden parenting moment. "I just hear Mischa (our puppy) whining downstairs."

Thought: Wait until you hear me explain Christmas.