Many young moms glance around the home they’re trying to keep tidy and at least in compliance with minimum health department standards, and their eyes land on all the evidence that “kids live here.” Sippy cups. Snack bowls or a Hansel and Gretel trail of crumbs from the kitchen to the family room. Primary colored toys pushed up against the walls of what was supposed to be a beach-themed bleached driftwood and aqua sea glass décor. Shoes piled by the front door as if sneaker-smell could ever serve as a welcome mat.
But at some point in life, littles grow up and mamas grow older. Mamas turn into grandmas. One day, without being morbid, the thought sneaks in, “I wonder who will want Great-Grandma’s hutch when I’m gone. I wonder if any of my kids will argue over who gets dibs on the antique rocker that isn’t very comfortable and won’t go with anyone’s design scheme but was the scene of many a midnight feeding.”
What is it in my house that those I love might want in their own homes one day?
That formed the basis of my “making Easter meaningful” musing this year. When my kids (and now grandkids) walk through the door of our house, they’re conscious that the walls and flat surfaces are filled with Hope. My life is guided by this principle: I can’t unravel. I’m hemmed in Hope. When I stumble on a mug or wall-hanging or ornament or bookmark that reminds me of the power of Hope, it becomes part of the collection. At last count, my youngest grandson noted 47 items with the word Hope. Hope has become a conversation piece at our house, and an atmosphere-setter.
This year, I’m planning a stark reminder of the impact of the resurrection of Jesus, the Hope-giver. When the family arrives for Easter dinner, they’ll walk into a home with all visible evidence of Hope gone. I’m stripping the walls of all the signs. Packing away the Hope mugs. Putting the Hope keyrings and bookmarks into temporary storage.
Will they notice? I predict the blank spaces will instantly catch their eye. I pray it catches their breath, as the thought did mine and opens a meaningful conversation.
What if the resurrection had never happened? What if Jesus had not conquered death on our behalf? What if Easter were only a celebration of the return of green grass and flowers and—oh yes—another opportunity for chocolate to take center stage?
Hope would disappear.
Part of our family celebration of Easter this year will include putting Hope back where it belongs. Dusting it off. Repositioning it as a focal point. Securing it where it might have been hung hastily in the past. Reminding all of us that Hope is the legacy that changes everything. “Christ in you, the hope of glory,” Colossians 1:27 NIV.
Restoring 47 reminders of the Hope that the resurrection of Jesus Christ offers may become a new Easter morning tradition.
Cynthia Ruchti tells stories hemmed-in-Hope through her award-winning novels, nonfiction, devotionals, and through speaking events for women. Her latest releases include Miles from Where We Started and Afraid of the Light (which releases in June 2020). You can connect with her at hemmedinhope.com or cynthiaruchti.com.
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