The dogwoods are in bloom and the azaleas are brilliant in their color. It is Easter time in the South. The fish are biting and the turkeys are gobbling. Golf tees are being stuck in the ground at Augusta. Tomato plants are being buried in yards with hopes of fresh homemade ‘matter sandwiches in the summer. I love it!

It was during this time of year, as an eight year old boy, that I learned one of life’s hard lessons. And of all things, I learned it from a chocolate Easter Bunny.

Arriving home after the Easter Sunrise Service I found that the Easter Bunny had left me a huge basket filled with every type of Easter candy. But, my eyes filled up with tears of joy as I saw the biggest chocolate Easter Bunny ever sitting right in the middle of the basket. Now, I knew the policy, no candy until after church and the church clothes are off. What were only a few hours to a mom and dad was an eternity to a kid.

As much as I tried, I just couldn’t get focused on the Easter story this year. Our Sunday School teacher taught about "the greatest day" in history when Jesus came out of the tomb. Amen, and I agreed completely in my heart, but my stomach was thinking chocolate Easter Bunny. My mind was debating the proper way to eat such a fine specimen. Some folks would begin at the ears and nibble down. That seemed just too obvious to me. Maybe, I would start at the feet or even eat the cute little tail off as an appetizer. This bunny was going to be eaten with careful planning and it should last me at least a week. I would fill in my candy cravings with the little yellow peeps and other goodies.

Finally, we are home and my new Easter clothes are off and put away. Now, in my blue jeans and tee shirt, I could begin my adventure. Holding the bunny close, I could smell the richness of the chocolate. Getting to you isn’t it? Have you stopped reading yet to grab a bite of chocolate? Go ahead, I understand. I’ll wait.

Now was the time of decision. I fell into the trap of everyone else and took my first bite right out of the ears. My teeth melted through the smooth chocolate and my life was scared forever. The bunny was HOLLOW!!! Oh, no, how could this be. I held in my hands a hollow bunny that posed to be a solid chocolate bunny. My heart sank and my life was crushed and I tasted with a deep drink the wine of disappointment.

Thankfully, with much prayer and encouragement from family and friends, I am now able to talk about that dark day. A week long bunny was eaten in a fifteen minute flurry of anger and tears. Just for the sake of it, I got out my Daisy Red Rider BB gun and shot the sorry thing a few times before I finished him off. Even eight year old boys hate disappointment.

As I have gotten older, I have found that life is filled with hollow chocolate bunnies. If you think for one minute that you are going to make it through this world without something being hollow that you thought was solid, think again. At some point in time, just about everything or everyone will disappoint you, including your own self. So, how do we live in a world of hollow bunnies? I have found that gratitude works well. Instead of losing it when I bit into the hollow bunny, I should have been grateful to have had a bunny at all. Today, I try to notice the positive before I let the disappointment cloud my vision.

You might be frustrated with your life and just find it hard to be thankful. If you are having trouble being positive or grateful, let me invite you to a web site of one of my friends, Andy Andrews (www.andyandrews.com/blog/the-noticer-project). He is beginning a nationwide grass roots movement to get our perspectives and focus back on track. Andy’s book The Noticer will be in book stores April 28 and will be a quick best seller. If you want to know who I read, (and those of you that know me well know that I read all the time) Andy is at the top of my list. All of us need someone to keep us inspired and focused.

God bless and please comment on my blog page (www.JoeyHancock.com) and I hope that you have a blessed Easter filled with SOLID chocolate bunnies . . . . . . .

Joey

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