Yesterday, my boyfriend and I filled a bag with Easter eggs and then wandered up to our local park.
With all the stealth we could manage, we hid clusters of foil-wrapped chocolates in the arms of trees, in the nooks and crannies of stone walls, on garden seats and in nests of grass, for strangers to find.
I wanted to surprise people, make them smile, engage their curiosity, give them something delicious to enjoy. But in the end, it didn’t matter to me if the gold sparkling in the shadows went unnoticed or if the piles of goodies were inspected but not touched. The act itself was pleasure enough.
This was a good lesson for me. To do, without expecting a particular response or attaching to a specific outcome. To do simply because the doing brings joy.
We only sat and observed people’s reactions for a while. I don’t know if all the eggs were found and eaten. We didn’t bother retracing our steps later to see. Some may sit there until next Easter. Some may be a feast for some happy ants.
If you stumbled across a stash of chocolate eggs, what would you do?
As intrigued and delighted as I would be at such a discovery, I think my own caution and suspicion would prevent me from having a taste of sweetness. There is so much to be afraid of in our world. Fear makes a strong case for itself. It can often sound a lot like the voice of reason, of caring, of love. This Easter egg hunt reminded me of what we can miss out on, if we choose distrust and fear.
I want to recognize the invitations I receive to be brave and learn how to say yes.