2 weeks Ago By Rebecca Chambers
The line at the dollar store is long, and we’re all here for the same items. There’s a run on plastic eggs and cheap chocolate, straw made from shredded paper and colourful baskets woven in some overseas factory. Read this article for free: Already have an account? To continue reading, please subscribe: * To continue reading, please subscribe: *$1 will be added to your next bill.
After your 4 weeks access is complete your rate will increase by $0.00 a X percent off the regular rate. The line at the dollar store is long, and we’re all here for the same items.
There’s a run on plastic eggs and cheap chocolate, straw made from shredded paper and colourful baskets woven in some overseas factory. Read unlimited articles for free today: Already have an account? Opinion The line at the dollar store is long, and we’re all here for the same items. There’s a run on plastic eggs and cheap chocolate, straw made from shredded paper and colourful baskets woven in some overseas factory.
I am a willing participant in this tradition. My kids delight in finding the treat-filled eggs; they’re still young enough to love the novelty of the Easter-morning hunt. So I’m waiting in line with the other last-minute parents and caregivers to try to create a little magic Sunday morning.
I cannot say the joy of Easter appears to be in the hearts of my fellow shoppers. We are a tired and long-suffering bunch, but we are here to plant joy in the hearts of the children in our lives. In my own childhood I can remember being dressed up in those 1980s ruffled dresses, complete with some sort of Easter hat, and brought to church.
Growing up Anglican, there was little variation in how the Easter story was presented, and I liked the romanticism of the story — the shocked and weeping Mary finding the tomb empty, the dramatic reveal that the person she thought was a gardener was actually Jesus, then the fact no one would believe her and finally a celebration the impossible had happened. In my mind, Mary was the hero of the story who had done all the detective work to solve a mystery, and I liked hearing about her. EREN LI PHOTO / PEXELS Easter, like Christmas, involves varied traditions for those of us who observe.
My Easter bonnet eventually went into disuse as the holiday became more of the Easter Bunny variation. I no longer attended church, but we still hunted for eggs and gathered for a meal. As a young adult, I found myself back in Sunday services, first working as a soloist in a United church, and later, by the warmth of friendship and community, becoming a member.
I attend now from time to time, and my own children have sort of a hybrid bunny/tomb conception of the holiday. Now these plastic eggs will be hidden through my house and yard, and my little ones will tear around filling their little baskets. Becoming a parent has made me more grateful for spring — the increased variety of activities on offer, fewer clothes to wear, the lower-stress driving.
This particular tradition at the dollar store marks the hopeful end of a long winter and a reminder of the new life lurking beneath the frozen ground. Of course, Easter is but one way the change of season is celebrated. It’s from other traditions that we’ve come to embrace the egg and the bunny as symbols of new life.
As we emerge from our own dark winter slumber we see these signs everywhere — breaking ice on the river, returning geese, the first shoots of green groping toward the sun. During Elections Get campaign news, insight, analysis and commentary delivered to your inbox during Canada's 2025 election. Lately, when considering our collective future, I vacillate between hope and despair.
I suppose that’s to be expected when the prognosis of that future changes each time a certain world leader opens his mouth or gets on social media. It’s easy to feel unmoored and hyper-vigilant, and it’s difficult to find constant and reliable waymarkers to assure us things will be OK in the end. We are also, of course, on the cusp of a federal election, where we look toward a new leader of Canada; the first time we will have had a change since prior to the upheaval of the COVID-19 pandemic.
The entire campaign has a new and different tone. We are balancing our own future with the undeniably co-dependent relationship with our southern neighbour, trying to hold onto some of our own goals and aspirations while admittedly at the mercy of another nation. In the slow-moving dollar store checkout line, I’m reminded this weekend is an invitation to perennial optimism.
There are more than plastic eggs and cheap chocolate in the cart; there is the responsibility to encourage and celebrate in others the reminder of joy and life yet unseen. We can and need to believe that miracles happen, that what appears dead may yet spring to life. Whether by bunny, egg, returning goose or empty tomb, we’re stirred to revive our faith in one another and in our shared future.
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ca Rebecca explores what it means to be a Winnipegger by layering experiences and reactions to current events upon our unique and sometimes contentious history and culture. Her column appears alternating Saturdays. Our newsroom depends on a growing audience of readers to power our journalism.
If you are not a paid reader, please consider . Our newsroom depends on its audience of readers to power our journalism. Thank you for your support.
Rebecca explores what it means to be a Winnipegger by layering experiences and reactions to current events upon our unique and sometimes contentious history and culture. Her column appears alternating Saturdays. Our newsroom depends on a growing audience of readers to power our journalism.
If you are not a paid reader, please consider . Our newsroom depends on its audience of readers to power our journalism. Thank you for your support.
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