Don’t Egg Her On

For some reason Churchyard Chick does not seem to be in the proper frame of mind for Easter.  She should be dying her eggs and nestling them in the fake grass in a variety of baskets.  (She never puts all her eggs in one basket.)  She is trying to figure out why she is feeling so disgruntled and out of sorts.

Could it be the weather?  There has been such unrest in the atmosphere the last few weeks that it has been unsettling.  The erratic weather patterns have been reflective of the disquiet in her spirit.  She has found herself running around sometimes like a chicken with her head . . . well, we won’t finish that just now. 

Could it be that she has been disturbed by her reading of the Book of Jeremiah during the season of Lent?  How utterly depressing that has been!  He certainly deserves his nickname as “the weeping prophet.”  Could it be that he has hit her between the eyes with all his talk about obedience and false gods?  Maybe.

Or could it be (and this is the most likely reason) that she is feeling upstaged by that ubiquitous rabbit?  The one calling himself Easter Bunny.  He really gets on her last nerve sometimes with wearing all those silly clothes and posing for umpteen chocolate sculptures of himself.  What an ego!  Where does he come from anyway?  Who are his people?  And where does he get off bringing eggs, for goodness’ sake? 

Where do people think he gets them anyway?  Certainly not from his own nest!  When you think about it, what does he have to do with anything anyway?  A rabbit bringing eggs?  Really?  “What a hare-brained idea that is,” she thinks.  Privately she has confessed that she gets a twisted satisfaction at the sight of packaged chocolate bunnies whose ears have broken off.  “Serves him right,” she says.

Until this year, she has not given it much thought.  She has not questioned the whole thing, even the fact that E.B. gets a lot of credit without any labor.  He just shows up with all the goodies and gets all the love.   Tradition.  “It is what it is.”  Granted, he sometimes throws in a few Peeps just to pacify her, but it is small comfort.  Finally, she has had enough.  Easter Bunny will find plenty of eggs elsewhere — candy, plastic (even gi-normous foot-long ones . . . ouch!) and of course the authentic ones dyed pastel — but he won’t get any from this chick.   She’s wise to his ways.

What will she be doing?  Today she is remembering Christ’s Last Supper with his disciples and the question each of them asked, “Is it I?”  And she will be pondering that question about herself.  Does she betray Him each time she worries, doubts or complains? 

Tomorrow she will be somber as she thinks about Good Friday and Christ’s love for her as He gave Himself for her so that she can freely enter God’s presence.  She will consider the ways she denies him and ask for forgiveness.

And on Sunday, Resurrection Day, she will rejoice once more when she hears the story of the empty tomb.  If you meet her on the road, zigging and zagging as she always does, she will probably greet you with, “He is risen!”  Even now, as she struggles with her present state of mind, she knows in her heart the joy that will arrive with Easter.  Who knows?  By then, she might even have an egg or two to share in celebration of new life, hope and renewal.  

But don’t hold your breath for a chocolate bunny.


About Jan Hamlett

Exploring faith outside the safety of Sunday
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