Holding On, Carrying On: Our Easter Story

Holding On, Carrying On: Our Easter Story

Easter will probably never feel the same for me.

My mom passed away on a Good Friday.

So every year, when Easter comes around, it carries more than just celebration. It carries memory. It carries loss. It carries love.

That first Easter without her, we still got together that Sunday.
It felt different—quieter in some ways, heavier in others—but we showed up anyway.

Because that’s what she would’ve wanted.

And somehow, we've managed to keep that tradition.


At first, we kept going for her, my mother-in-law, and my dad, who is still with us.
Now, we keep going mostly for the kids.

Every year, my sister, brother, and I probably spend more than we should trying to make Easter special. But it’s not really about the money—it’s about the experience. It’s about the joy. It’s about giving the kids something to hold onto.

And since my niece passed away, it’s become even more intentional.

Now it feels like a mission.

Not just for my great niece and nephews…
but for any kids who show up on Easter Sunday.

We have a big family.
Everybody is welcome.

Some show up and some don’t, but we know the core will be there.

And whoever comes—we want them to feel it.

We want the kids to leave happy.
We want there to be more than enough—enough fun, enough laughter, enough food.

It’s our way of loving big.
Of creating space.
Of honoring the ones who aren’t here by pouring into the ones who are.


This year felt especially good.

We switched things up—no front yard Easter egg hunt this time (the ants taught us that lesson last year). Instead, we did goodie bags, and honestly… it worked.

There was food everywhere.
The kind of food that says, “stay awhile.”

We were missing a few family members, but the core of our Texas crew was there—and that mattered.

And then we ended the day at the Gamblers game.

They won on a last-minute field goal, and somehow my sister and I ended up in the mini crowd for Ludacris’ halftime show (let's hear it for the gray-haired girls in the back)!

Just… a really good day.

Not perfect.
Not the same.
But full.


But the truth is… Easter isn’t really about any of that.

Not the food.
Not the traditions.
Not even the gathering.

Those things matter. They’re beautiful. They’re meaningful.

But they’re not the reason.


Easter is about the resurrection of Jesus Christ.

It’s about the fact that death did not win.
That what looked like the end… wasn’t the end at all.

And I think that’s why this day hits differently for me.

Because I know what it feels like to experience loss.
To sit in the weight of it.
To carry it year after year.

And yet… Easter reminds me that loss is not the final word.

That there is life beyond what we can see.
That God is still working, even in the middle of grief.
That hope didn’t die on Friday—it rose on Sunday.


So yes, we get together.
Yes, we celebrate.
Yes, we go all out for the kids.

But underneath all of it…

There’s a deeper truth holding us together.

A quiet, steady reminder that we’re not just holding on—
we’re carrying on because of the hope we have in Christ.


I’m grateful for my family.
They’re the ones who keep me grounded.

But more than that…
I’m grateful for a Savior who reminds me that even in loss, there is still life.

And that is what Easter is all about.

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