Easter at High
Rock was about dying and hunting Easter eggs. Thanks to Granny’s chickens,
there were plenty of eggs to color. The process involved boiled eggs, hot water, dye pellets,
vinegar, little cups, wire egg holders, plastic grass and Easter baskets. (There
are likely still old Easter baskets hanging in the attic of the High Rock
house.)
Her experiments
inspired me to dry some poke berries (pokeweed) one summer and save it for
dying eggs the next spring. Surely the eggs would be the beautiful purple of
the berries.
(Do not try this...the outcome was no better than mixing all of the
dyes together!)
Hiding eggs in
Granny’s yard at High Rock was The Best—walking in the side yard still reminds
me of looking for eggs hidden by The Aunts in the spring grass. When we can, we
try to keep the tradition going wherever the family gathers.
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I don’t remember
having trouble separating the fun of egg hunting, chocolate bunnies, fuzzy
yellow chicks and a new coloring book from what Easter means at the heart of
the holiday (just as my parents let me enjoy both the coming of Santa and the
coming of the Christ Child at Christmas). One was fantasy and fun…the other was
the heart of who we were and are as Believers.
I love the
message of the real Easter told
using a carton of colored plastic Easter eggs…Resurrection Eggs. Each egg, when
opened, holds a small symbol of some part of the Easter story. There are many
versions…here’s one:
Jesus said …, “I
am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet
shall he live (John 11:25)
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