This week, we’ll be posting ideas and traditions from our Multiply Goodness authors on how they remember the Savior and prepare their hearts for Easter during this holiest of weeks. We hope you’ll join us and find some inspiration. And we hope you’ll share your traditions and ideas with us as well.
I’ve been experiencing some Pinterest-related guilt.
Maybe you have too.
Easter always sneaks up on me, and though I have every intention of being deliberate and planning out new Christ-centered traditions for our family to try, I often forget to plan until the last minute.
Realizing the season was already upon me, I took to my Easter Pinterest board. That wasn’t the right decision. Suddenly, all my good intentions and plans from last year were staring me in the face and making me feel even worse for not having planned ahead.
Not wanting to let the week pass without acknowledging the events of the Savior’s life each day, our family has spent the last two days meeting briefly as a family, reading from the scriptures and talking about the events that occurred during Holy Week. As part of that time together, we also watched this video on Palm Sunday, and this video yesterday.
As the kids went to bed last night, I was feeling badly again. Like what I was doing wasn’t enough. Then, I turned around in the kitchen and saw this wreath my four year old made at the preschool she attends at a local Presbyterian church:
She was so excited about making it at school. So excited to tell me about the palm leaves and the cross and Jesus. We had a delightful conversation in the car on the way home yesterday, and again every time she passed the wreath where she’d left it in the kitchen. When we watched the video of Jesus cleansing the temple together as a family last night, she was watching with us. She knew Him and knew what was happening.
Humbled to know that my small efforts were reinforcing what she was being taught at school, I then came across this photo on my phone:
Our seven year old son has been learning about Easter and the resurrection at church, and wanted to teach us about it. He created a special scene out of Legos (complete with a tomb and a cross and trees like the Garden of Gethsemane), carefully chose mini-figures for each character (“I chose this guy to be Jesus because his shirt has rips in it, and Jesus had whip marks on His back. Wasn’t that a good idea, mom?”), and acted out the story of the stone being rolled away and Jesus interacting with Mary Magdalene. He taught us. He bore testimony of what He knew. After he finished teaching us, we watched this video, and my heart soared as he remarked halfway through, “Mom, why are my eyes hot? They are watering. The movie is making my eyes water.” My eyes were wet as well. The presence of the Holy Spirit was strong as we listened to him teach us and as we watched the video depicting the same event we’d just been taught through his sweet Lego scene.
Grateful, I took a deep breath and realized – I don’t need to feel guilty about what I’m not doing. I don’t need to let the unused pins on my Pinterest board add unnecessary guilt and shame about all the things I’m not doing for Easter this week. Can I do better? Yes. (And thanks to my friends at Amazon Prime, I was able to make some last minute purchases and I’m going to be able to try one new tradition on Easter morning that my friend Whitney does every year. I’m really excited about that.) But I’m not going to let the perfect be the enemy of the good. As my sweet friend Emily Ley always says, I will hold myself to a standard of grace, not perfection.
And one tradition I know we will keep going forward? Letting our children teach us what they know. Making sure we give them the opportunity during this Holy Week to teach and testify of Him and His sacrifice that changed everything for all of us.
While we hope the traditions we are sharing this week inspire you to make Christ the center of your home and worship this week, we also want you to know this – doing something is enough. Taking a moment to read. To ponder. To watch a video depicting the Savior’s life. Setting apart your time. Deliberately taking a moment to remember Christ and His sacrifice. All of that matters. Even if it isn’t elaborate. Even if it isn’t “pinnable.” That little Lego scene with its taped paper tomb door and the way we felt as we heard my son teach us about the resurrection of the Savior will forever be pinned on my heart. And that’s the best kind of pin I can think of.