The First Easter Bunny

The grass was sparkling with dew. The flowers were blooming brilliantly, as if they thought they were the first ones God had ever created way back in Eden. The birds sang with more excitement than I’d ever heard—and they’re usually pretty happy in the morning!

One burst up into the sky, soaring across the clouds, and I saw the most beautiful sunrise I’ve seen in a long time!  Orange and gold and rosy red!


Wow, I sure wasn’t sleepy this morning, as I poked my head out of my burrow. I bounded out to see what was going on.

Hmmm, who were these guys?  Red uniforms, brown belts and sandals, silver helmets.  The usual. Roman soldiers.  What they were doing here in my garden, I didn’t know.


Actually, it was the town cemetery. Sepulchers and caverns all around, where people were buried.  Most of them were closed with a huge boulder, so creatures like me couldn’t get in.

Not that I wanted to….Who wants to go into somebody’s burial cave? Not me.

These Roman soldiers looked pretty bored.  Couldn’t they see that all of creation was celebrating? At least it seemed so.

Whoa!  Suddenly the earth started to shake.  I had nothing to hold on to, and I was about to scoot back into my hole, when a light flashed. It was so bright that I couldn’t see anything for a second.  Then I saw a figure—or a man –or something!  He was big and  glowing with light.  The two soldiers looked small and weak beside him. And they were scared. They took one look, and fainted dead away.

Then the angel—I found out later, that’s what he was—moved that boulder away from the entrance of the tomb all by himself!  He sat on the stone, and waited.

Something else was happening in another direction. I should have gotten out of there, while I had the chance, but I was spellbound—just sitting there with my nose twitching.

Somebody was coming.  The rustle of dresses, soft murmurings, even sobbing. It was a group of women. Three or four of them. You heard crying and whispers a lot here in the cemetery.  Much different than the chatter and laughing when women usually get together, like in the market place.

They looked familiar.  I was out here the other night when someone was being buried. These same ladies were here then, watching sadly.

I looked back at the tomb.  Another angel had joined the first.  Wait until the ladies saw them!  They’d be as scared as those soldiers, who were still sprawled  on the ground.  The women were coming straight at me. I scampered behind a rock, and watched.

They were carrying pots and containers. Probably the spices that were used to bury people.

Sure enough, I could hear what they were saying.  They were coming to finish the job that the men had started the other night.

“But how are we going to move the stone?” asked one.

Ha! Wouldn’t they be surprised.

And sure enough. They rounded a bend, and looked up, and—

Well, at least they didn’t faint like the soldiers. But they sure were startled.


“Don’t be afraid,” said one of the angels quickly.

“He is not here,” said the other, excitedly.  “He is risen!”

They were amazed. They looked at each other, then stared back at the angels!  The ladies were suddenly smiling, laughing, crying with joy instead of sorrow!

“Go, tell the disciples,” one of the angels instructed them.

They dropped their containers in their excitement. They turned and ran—not in fear but in excitement.

They were so happy, that they made me happy, too.  Then I turned and looked, and the angels were gone.  The soldiers were coming to. They stared in horror at the empty tomb, and headed away, really upset.

“We’re in so much trouble,” said one.

Then all was quiet.

I stuck around for a while to see if anything else was going to happen. It wasn’t long before two men came running to see what was going on. They checked out the tomb, and talked for a while, then headed home.

I finally decided it was time to get some breakfast.  But I’ll never forget that morning.  I don’t know as much about God as the humans do, but I do know He was doing something pretty special that day.

The End



By Carol Bennett