I remember Easter morning waking up ready to hunt for our baskets. We had to follow a group of clues, which began as simple drawings that led you from one spot to the another. As you got older the clues became much more difficult, little riddles; they become especially difficult when my Dad began writing our clues.
I remember pretty dresses, and dying Easter Eggs. I remember the Easter Egg tree my mom had which was decorate with very fancy eggs that she had painted.
Now as an adult, for me Easter means hope.
Easter means celebrating that someone loved all of us enough to suffer and die for each of us. Easter means celebrating that not only did He suffer and die for us, but after three days He came back to life, opening the door for all us to live again. I believe it and know it to be true. He lives. Hallelujah!