For years, my kids thought this was how they came home from the store. Missing parts were normal.

And for years, I thought every holiday had to have its coordinating candy (fill in your blank here) to be worth celebrating. That certain rituals needed to take place to make a holiday meaningful for the family.

But as time marches by, I rethink this concept. We come from a culture that loves rituals. Traditions have a place for sure, but I really like what comes out of letting that go at times. You know, riding the wave of the moment in Eckhart Tolle fashion. I always enjoy the nuggets I take away when I do that.

Easter seemed like the perfect opportunity. When I woke up to a gray and rainy day, I tried to listen to that quiet voice that gets drowned out by to do lists. I thought how happy the plants were outside with that shot of spring pouring from the sky. Because we aren’t past the last frost yet, I’ve been babying four tomato plants that spent the night inside. I took them out for a rain bath and walked by the Mexican Sage. A huge dandelion poked up out the middle. Normally, that plant is covered in bees at this time of year, but not today. I pulled the Dandelion and it slid out.

A moment of clarity: the weeds will come out so easily in the rain.

It’s a job I don’t covet, weeding. But this was different. It wasn’t on my list. The rain was cooling after my morning workout. I rode the moment, started weeding, and before I knew it, several hours had passed and my beds were pretty darn clean. Me, on the other hand–wet and covered in mud.

My son was sick in bed, my husband playing his game on the couch, and I was weeding in the rain. I was pretty sure ours was the only house celebrating the day in this way. This was a new kind of Easter. One where all body parts came attached to the bunny. One where I had tuned in with my ears and my heart and ended up a muddy mess, and one that left me fulfilled and happy which, quite frankly, is much more than the chocolate bunny ears used to do.