Saturday morning I’m going to an Easter egg hunt at my mom’s with ‘the Smalls’ in our family. We may freeze now that April has decided to behave as early March should have done. Crazy weather, but I’ve always loved Easter, a joyous season when the earth is reborn in a swell of new life washed with vibrant color, a time of spiritual and physical renewal. I can’t imagine Christ‘s resurrection taking place at any other time of year. This is most fitting. Although in some parts of the world, I suppose it’s fall isn’t it? A strange thought, hiding eggs beneath autumn leaves. Maybe those regions of the globe don’t have fall foliage. Let me know dear readers.
As a six-year-old recently returned from an early childhood spent in Taiwan–no autumn leaves there, but we had a kewl banana tree in our front yard–I delighted in my first egg hunt in a neighbor’s yard filled with blooming crocus and daffodils. Tucked in the green grass and among those shining blossoms were the many-colored eggs, like hidden jewels. Magical. And chocolate rabbits. I was in awe of an American Easter.
(*Grandson Colin from an earlier Easter)
Of course, in those days little girls wore hats and gloves and crinolines under their Easter dresses. Yes, I was born in the 1800′s. I also received my first white Bible on Easter, which is still my favorite one. It had this new book smell and books were quite special back then because my father was an underpaid English professor and we were poor. I just liked smelling my new Bible, but did eventually read much of it. The names of my favorite Sunday School teachers are inked in the front under the section entitled ‘Friends at Church.’ I must have been a complete nerd not to have any children listed. I had plenty of imaginary friends… (*Beth as a wee tot.)
Another early Easter memory is our family returning home from church and me climbing from the car to bury my face in a golden clump of daffodils by the back doorstep, beaded with rain. Their sweet scent said spring to me. And new life. I always imagined the tomb where Christ was buried and rose again surrounded by daffodils and crocus. Which is not likely given the photographs I’ve seen of what it may actually have looked like. Very dry and rocky terrain. I like my mental image better. It’s the spirit of the event that matters, so I’ll stick with it.
“Let the resurrection joy lift us from loneliness and weakness and despair to strength and beauty and happiness.” ~Floyd W. Tomkins
“It is the hour to rend thy chains,
The blossom time of souls.” ~Katherine Lee Bates