Easter Sunday has always been a special day for me—not just for the traditions, but for the memories I’ve shared with my dad. One particular Easter stands out as one of the most influential days of my life. It wasn’t a day of dramatic events or grand gestures, but one filled with subtle lessons that shaped how I view life, relationships, and resilience.
Let me take you back to that day and share what I learned from my dad—lessons I carry with me to this day.
Setting the Scene: A Simple Easter Morning
It was a crisp spring morning, the kind where sunlight filters through newly budding trees and everything feels fresh and alive. I was around 13 years old, caught in that awkward stage between childhood and adolescence. I hadn’t quiteappreciated holidays like Easter yet; to me, it was mostly about chocolate eggs, pastel-colored candies, and a break from school.
That year, my mom had asked my dad to take me to the early Easter service at church. I wasn’t thrilled. The idea of waking up early on a Sunday to sit still and listen to a sermon was not exactly my idea of fun. But my dad had a way of making even the most mundane things feel meaningful—and that day was no different.
Lesson 1: The Power of Showing Up
As we walked to the modest church down the street, I grumbled about being tired and missing cartoons. My dad, always patient, smiled and said, “Sometimes, the most important thing you can do is just show up.”
At the time, I didn’t really understand what he meant. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to see how true those words are. Whether it’s a friendship, a job, or even a family tradition, showing up—physically and emotionally—is the foundation of commitment. Even when you don’t feel like it, being present sends a powerful message.
Lesson 2: Gratitude in the Small Things
After the service, my dad suggested we grab breakfast at a nearby diner. It wasn’t anything fancy—just eggs, toast, and coffee for him, while I indulged in pancakes smothered in syrup. But he treated it like a special occasion, smiling as he savored each bite.
He told me, “It’s not about how big or expensive something is. It’s about appreciating what you have in the moment.” That simple meal became a lesson in gratitude. Now, whenever I find myself in an ordinary moment—a quiet coffee in the morning, the sound of rain tapping against the window—I think of my dad and try to soak it all in.
Lesson 3: Patience Is a Virtue (Especially With People)
After breakfast, we went home, where the rest of the family was preparing for Easter lunch. My younger siblings were running around, sugar-fueled and wild from their Easter baskets. My mom was busy in the kitchen, and tensions were running high as she tried to juggle ten things at once.
Instead of letting the chaos bother him, my dad calmly started to help. He peeled potatoes, set the table, and even managed to distract the kids with an impromptu egg hunt in the backyard. I watched as his steady patience brought a sense of calm to the entire house.
He later told me, “You can’t control other people’s behavior, but you can control how you respond to it.” That advice has saved me countless times—whether it’s in an argument, at work, or just dealing with life’s curveballs.
Lesson 4: Celebrate Others, Not Just Yourself
One of the highlights of Easter that year was a surprise my dad had planned. After lunch, he handed out small, thoughtful gifts to each family member—not just chocolates or trinkets, but things that showed he had been paying attention. My mom got her favorite scented candle, my sister received a book she’d been wanting to read, and I was given a new sketchpad for my budding interest in drawing.
What struck me most wasn’t the gifts themselves, but the joy my dad got from seeing our reactions. He wasn’t seeking praise or recognition; he just genuinely loved making others feel seen and appreciated. It taught me the importance of celebrating others—not just on holidays, but in everyday life.
Lesson 5: Resilience Through Reflection
As the day wound down, my dad and I sat outside on the porch, watching the sun set over the neighborhood. He asked me what I thought about the day, and I shrugged, not really sure how to put my feelings into words.
He smiled and said, “Every day is full of lessons if you’re willing to look for them. The good days and the tough ones both teach you something valuable.”
That simple statement has stayed with me. It’s a reminder to pause and reflect, especially during challenging times. Life isn’t just about what happens to you—it’s about how you process and grow from it.
Lesson 6: Traditions Matter (Even When They Seem Silly)
Looking back, I realize how much effort my dad put into keeping traditions alive—whether it was attending Easter service, hosting family dinners, or organizing egg hunts for the kids. At the time, I didn’t fully appreciate it. As a teenager, I thought traditions were old-fashioned and unnecessary.
But now, I see how those rituals created a sense of stability and connection in our family. They were a way of saying, “We’re in this together.” My dad taught me that traditions aren’t just about the activity itself—they’re about the meaning behind them and the memories they create.
A Lasting Impact
That Easter Sunday may have seemed like an ordinary day at the time, but it ended up being one of the most memorable days of my life. My dad didn’t sit me down and lecture me about life’s lessons; he taught through his actions, his words, and his presence. Those lessons—about showing up, gratitude, patience, celebrating others, resilience, and traditions—have shaped the way I approach the world.
Now, as an adult, I find myself trying to emulate those same qualities. Whether it’s taking a moment to appreciate a small joy, showing patience in a tough situation, or keeping family traditions alive, I often hear my dad’s voice in the back of my mind, guiding me.
Easter will always hold a special place in my heart—not just for the holiday itself, but for the reminders it brings about the kind of person I strive to be. So here’s to the life lessons we learn in the most unexpected moments and to the people, like my dad, who teach them with quiet grace.
