Omne vivum ex ovo...All life comes from an egg

We all survived and thrived on Easter this year which marked the anniversary of a very sad day. I can't believe three years have past since I last saw my father. With each passing day, I miss him more. My grief does shift and change, though. I no longer sob like my heart just got ripped out of my chest. But I still cry for him out of the blue. Sometimes I just long to hear his voice. I wish I could hear him tell one of his bad jokes. I wish I could see him smile. I wish he could give me advice. I wish I could see him speed into the driveway in his Cadillac. And I miss hearing music being played at his house.

Having the anniversary fall on Easter this year made me ponder death and life in a more spiritual way than usual. We had just celebrated the most sacred holiday in church that morning and Fischer was an acolyte for the first time. All the children brought flowers into the sanctuary and during the children's sermon, they all stepped forward and placed flowers in a giant cross. Even Nicholas participated, carrying long stems of orange lilies. A retired doctor gave his first children's sermon and there were certain things about his mannerisms that reminded me of Daddy. He told the stories about the pine tree and the dogwood and passed around samples. It seemed like the kind of sermon Daddy would like to share.

Easter is my favorite holiday. It is my favorite day period. I freely admit I have a real thing for Easter egg hunts. My sisters and I amused ourselves by hiding plastic eggs inside the house for each other all year long. When it rained, or when we were bored, we had Easter egg hunts. Mama never filled the eggs and it wasn't until I was an adult and Jolie was going on her first Easter egg hunt that I realized you could put candy inside of them. It was a whole new ball game. A revelation. I don't think we ever had egg hunts at school or church when I was little. So I never knew. Perhaps I am just one slow girl. But from that point on, I made sure I put candy in each one when I hid them for Jolie all year long, on days when it was rainy or when we were bored. The Easter Bunny can do his thing filling the basket, but the egg job is mine.

After church, we drove to Mama's house and had lunch. My sisters and their families were there too. We all swam in the pool afterwards but I was being dumb and doing a flip under water when I messed up the tube in my ear and got really disoriented. When my husband and my brother-in-law ushered me out as I was in extreme pain and panic and laid down to get the water out of what felt like my brain, I got stung by a freakin' bee. I went inside and took some Benedryl, and then snuck out the front door while no one was watching and hid six baskets full of eggs for my children, my niece, and my nephew. Come hell or high water, we were going to have an Easter egg hunt.

Eggs have been a symbol of new life for eons. Eggs are part of my roots. See the picture up there of my Daddy as a baby playing at my great grandfather's chicken hatchery?

"Just as the chick breaks out of an egg, so had Jesus broken free of the tomb of death. Easter eggs remind us that Jesus conquered death and gives us eternal life.” --www.homeschoolshare.com/legend_of_the_easter_egg.php"

"From earliest times, and in most cultures, the egg signified birth and resurrection. The Egyptians buried eggs in their tombs. The Greeks placed eggs atop graves. The Romans coined a proverb: Omne vivum ex ovo, "All life comes from an egg." And legend has it that Simon of Cyrene, who helped carry Christ’s cross to Calvary, was by trade an egg merchant. (Upon returning from the crucifixion to his produce farm, he allegedly discovered that all his hens’ eggs had miraculously turned a rainbow of colors; substantive evidence for this legend is weak.) Thus, when the Church started to celebrate the Resurrection, in the second century, it did not have to search far for a popular and easily recognizable symbol." --www.ideafinder.com/guest/calendar/easter.htm

Who wants to remember the anniversary of the death of a loved one? Birthdays, maybe, but the day they died would be better to forget. At least that's what I thought. But now I have seen the light. The perfect way to remember Daddy was having that Easter egg hunt. Watching his grandchildren frolick around the yard finding brightly colored plastic eggs was precious to my eyes. Let the eggs symbolize birth and rebirth. Celebrate that Jesus prepared the way for us to be together again someday. This promise is the only balm for our sorrows.

Peace be with you.