Easter Bunny

There were gaps I expected without Kirt here. Don't tell him, but the Tupperware is in utter disarray. I knew Hannah's genetic leanings when she opened the closet and let out a great sigh of disgust. If God meant plastic storage containers to be neatly stacked, then they wouldn't be such random sizes without matching lids.

I also suspected that I wouldn't change my clothes regularly. I try to quiet the voice that tells me I can wear the same thing as yesterday and nobody will notice, but the clothes are sitting there in a nice pile by my bed so I have to put them back on. There really is nothing I hate more than standing in my closet staring at all the different shades of black and brown figuring out if they go together.

But the Easter Bunny gap surprised me. I'm sorry if someone is reading this who still lives in the comfort of a large bunny hiding eggs around the yard for the ravens to eat and then seekers to find, but the Easter Bunny is Kirt. Always has been. I got a shot at tooth fairy, but lost it once I misspelled "ferry" on the return note. I'm still the one who sneaks the teeth out from under the pillow (while humming the Mission Impossible theme mind you), but that's all the more responsibility I get.

I'm a pastor. That doesn't mean I have theological issues with the symbol of fertility hiding chocolate treats; find new life where you can. It does mean that I'm really busy the weekend of Easter. I'm not whining; I love worship. Okay, I am whining because I don't love dyeing eggs, hiding them at the prime time to avoid the birds, and making up cool baskets. Those are not my gifts.

The Easter Bunny has always visited the Stage-Harvey house during nap time on Sunday, but I am normally napping during that time so it's as magical for me as the rest of the house. Maybe this is a good year to break out of the pagan rituals, but that feels a bit lame and lazy. None of the kids believe in the bunny, but they know if they say it out loud then the gig is up. Anyway it's fun to watch them navigate all the dog poop looking for eggs and it's really fun when they find one of last year's eggs with a prize still inside.

There should be greater profundity than my participation in pagan rites and the fact that I miss my partner and companion, but there isn't. I make a lousy Easter Bunny, but I'm a complete failure at the Lone Ranger. Don't get me wrong, I run a well organized household (except for the Tupperware). I am just feeling intensely aware that we all need companions. They don't need to come in the form of spouses, but we all need folks who walk with us and pick up where we struggle, or give us permission to let it go, or tell us to change our clothes.