Your little sister still believes in the magic of those myths we've cultivated for the holidays just for you, kids. I'm happy you'll keep your observations to yourself, and I'm sad that you are seeing things clearer than perhaps I want you to.
I watched you with a tangled mix of emotions as you approached the Easter Bunny at the mall, and sat on his lap, the disillusion clearly depicted on your forced little smile.
I didn't have the Easter Bunny when I grew up. Where I lived, the entire week had a different tone.
None of us kids received a bag of goodies, a new dress, and we didn't look for eggs on Sunday morning.
We were instead, reminded of what it meant for God to offer his only son in order to save the rest of us.
I realize this may be too much for you. At your age, the last thing I want you to know of is pain, death, or the malice of people.
I'm thirty-seven and I'm still struggling to fully understand that the Son of God had to suffer such torture, such humiliation, in order to save my soul.
But as for you, the day you read this letter, I want you to know that when you come to understand that we all face the same end, and inevitably grow afraid, like all of us do, look into what Easter really means.
There you will find that almost 2,000 years ago, Jesus died on the cross only to rise and ascend into the heavens, leaving us with the hope of joining him there at the end of our lives. It doesn't end here. That's what Easter is about. Know Jesus, carry Him in your heart, attain to his one teaching of loving others as we want to be loved, and rejoice in His promise of living among Him and all our loved ones.
For now, let's color more eggs, let's find them in the silliest places, and let's have a sugar fest as we laugh at the antics of cartoon Easter Bunnies.
When your little sister comes to that same realization you did, let her know that it's okay because Easter is so much more. Of course, we might be okay, she may forget the Easter Bunny lie and accept the candy and chocolates as just compensation.
Happy Easter, kiddo.