There are two sides of Easter and I am a big fan of both. The first, which I wrote about last week, is the celebration of the resurrection of Jesus Christ. The second involves the Easter egg.
Easter eggs aren’t found in the Bible, so I am having to look up their history in what I consider another reliable source: Wikipedia.
Based on what I read, the origins of the decorated eggs go back 2,500 years and symbolizes new life. The tradition now falls on Easter because of the resurrection (new life) and has had a connection to the vernal equinox (again, the beginning of spring represents new life). According to Wikipedia, there are also connections to the Passover.
I just summed it up in a nutshell, or in an eggshell if a pun is preferred. The best bet is to look it up yourself if you’re interested. I’m sure there are a “Google” of online sources.
Easter eggs bring back many childhood memories for me. Decorating eggs was always a fun activity in school. Although I’ve always dreamed of painting an egg so it looks like the planets Jupiter or Saturn, it seems mine always ended up looking like Mars.
While I was growing up, a few decades ago, if we ever created Easter eggs, they usually ended up a solid color. This was because we would use only food coloring, thus they would come out looking like Uranus and Neptune.
My mom had my siblings and me using food coloring because she didn’t want us destroying the hard-boiled eggs. The eventual demise of our creations was an egg salad sandwich in our lunch.
And then there were the plastic eggs that come apart and had candy hidden inside. I enjoyed these kinds of eggs the best mainly because of the candy, and I didn’t care much for egg salad or hard-boiled eggs until I was older.
I don’t remember participating in any Easter egg hunts. I’m not sure why. Perhaps I just don’t have any fond memories. Most of my Easter-egg hunt memories come from either taking pictures of children searching for their prizes, or just watching.
Sunday after church I did just that: I stood outside and watched as the kids searched around the church lawn for the eggs. I stood next to a shrub and was pointing at the hidden eggs and shouting to the kids, “Look here.” I felt like my voice was falling on deaf ears as the children were filling their baskets with the eggs easiest to find.
Finally I called out one kid’s name. He came and saw a treasure. Of course, once he pulled out one egg, the other kids flocked around the bush like seagulls pouncing on pieces of thrown bread.
This year, the Easter-egg hunt at my church was nice because it quit raining long enough to happen. Last year the hunt had to be inside the building – not that it was raining here in Brookings, but because, oddly enough, it was snowing.