11 a.m., Easter Morning, 2008.

There is nothing small or selfish about the reception of a gift. Let all other cliches stand aside, this one is true: it is the thought that counts. The thought of the giver, and the thought of the receiver. This morning Brooke gave me an Easter basket...because she knew that no one else would. There was a thought, and now there is appreciation.

Up until this point, two things have kept me from truly appreciating Easter: Perfection and Magnitude. I simply cannot understand or fathom a perfect Christ. Or more exactly, I cannot empathize or sympathize with the trials and victories of Deity. Was the Atonement and Resurrection hard? Undoubtedly. But He's God. He's It. He's All. There just doesn't seem to be any suspense in the story. Nor character arc. And what about magnitude? A universal gift? An infinite atonement? My mental ken travels out about as far as the nearest cloud in its journey through the expanses. I simply don't know what universal means.

But as Garred drives home this morning, Easter basket perched next to him on the passenger seat, a miracle feathers itself into his mind. The Mighty God, Creator of creation, for two moments in time (one 2000 years ago, one at this very point in spacetime) was simply Jesus. My Jesus. A skinny man who put together an epiphanal Easter basket for me while still in the tomb and traveled through 2000 years of History to deliver it to me precisely as I'm passing Ikea on I-15. Here are the contents of my basket:

- One realization that the Atonement was Hell. Literally Hell. When Christ saw me that night in Gethsemane, he saw a boy not worth saving. He saw an animal. A hate. A lust. A lie. A blasphemy. A devil. He saw it in you, too. It broke Jesus' heart. My Jesus. It was enough to make his royal blood flee from the same frame that housed these ungodly pictures. What happened that night was uglier than you and I will ever have to know.

- One realization that the same Christ that suffered for the world was the very Jesus that had nothing but love and benevolence for me after the Resurrection. He thought of me, he smiled, and now there is appreciation.

- One reminder to slow down before I passed a cop hidden behind the median.

JM Barrie would have put it this way: Every ray of light that shone off of our Savior's face that first Easter morning was a happy thought or a hopeful prayer about me and you. Whatever darkness that had perpetrated His soul a few nights previous was answered Sunday with a smile, a glimmer, a happy light. Easter brings Spring. Winter is over.

I don't understand the infinite atonement. But I am moved this morning to know that someone (my Jesus) was thinking about me.