Everyone knows the phrase, “The only things that are certain are death and taxes,” is used when discussing events that will go on forever. To those two, I would like to add Easter grass, for it also is eternal.
It is already the middle of September, nearly five full months since Easter passed, yet that does not seem to matter to the Easter grass. It is still hanging around. I cannot believe it.
It has become a joke in our house. Some how, some way, it seems about once a month or so, a piece of Easter grass adheres to the bottom of my foot as I am walking around the house. I run to find my wife now to show her (for some reason, this does not happen to her). I exclaim, “Mary, you won’t believe it. There is a piece of …” She interrupts and shouts back, “Easter grass!” I respond, “Yes, Mary, yes and it is stuck to my foot!” We laugh about it and I swear to her that I will never use Easter grass again, even though I know I probably will.
Easter grass is just simply amazing. It has reached the point where I am just totally astounded and in awe of its absolute resilience.
How does it stick around for so long? Where does it hide? Why does it only come out every once in a while? Why does only one piece come out at a time?
To most everyone, Easter grass is just fake cut plastic that you fill a basket with for your children once a year. Yet, there are three important lessons we can learn from the Easter grass.
One, don’t give too much of yourself at once, people will just be overwhelmed by that. Parcel yourself out and give a little bit each time, spread over the course of lifetime (I think the lifespan of Easter grass has to be at least 400 years).
Two, hang in there despite the odds. We have vacuumed the house dozens of times since Easter and we have one of those fancy Dyson “It-doesn’t-lose-suction” vacuums; yet, the Easter grass has the sheer tenacity to still be around. One cannot help but be impressed.
Lastly, it might be a small thing and it might even annoy you, but if you find the humor in it, that’s all that matters in the end. For a month after Easter, it drove me nuts. Now, I just can’t help but laugh (while still being totally astonished by it).
For most of my life, when someone asked me to list three things that we could count on forever, I could only think of the two — death and taxes. Now I know what my third thing is — it is Easter grass.
I can step on it from one Easter to the next. I could probably step on it for the next 400 years if death wasn’t one of the three things on the list. That truly is miraculous.