It’s Christmastime, but all I see today is my first girl in a pink jumper—one-and-a-half trips around the sun to her name—crouching to claim her treasure. A thousand pastel ovals dot the rolling field of green, begging to be taken. Kids zig and zag, snapping up as many as they can tote in their buckets, but my toddler’s basket is empty, and she’s content with the first egg she finds. She plops onto the ground to open it.
I squint in the Arizona sun and sit with my little one on the grass. It’s only April 15, but it’s warm—especially with the five-month-along bump under my sundress to keep me cozy.
The unborn one that Easter of 2001 eventually got her own basket, and so did the sister who followed her. We soon learned all three of our girls knew how to locate hidden treasure, no training necessary—even with the passing years as the hunts grew more challenging.
Object permanence, the ability of a baby to know things still exist even when they’re not seen, is the start of a magical adventure. And we humans forever seek it as we pursue the special edition, the specific tool, the lost earring, the perfect gift, the ideal person.
Vestiges of the search follow me through my life. I'm decades beyond the Arizona egg hunt and thousands of miles away from it too, but the eternity-set-in-the-human-heart moves me to fetch the mail, check the calendar, click the text, open the box. My life is full of chasing, hoping, expecting, waiting. And now it's Christmastime when more is more.
I quiet myself and focus on the Truth again.
You will seek Me and find Me when you search for Me with all your heart...
The reminder is everything. There's no need for all the looking; I've been interacting with treasure this whole time.
... and I will be found by you.
My Great Reward is here.
