Easter, with the church lawn egg hunt and the many Alleluias, the bells, the ringing and singing and tumble of a joyful community, the potluck lunch attended by so many who had nowhere else particular to be. In all these earthy ways we proclaimed Christ risen, love beyond all knowing.
Eve and Isaac hoped the E.B. would come late to our house as he usually does (on Easter afternoon), and voiced their request that the egg scavenger hunt might be "harder than last time." I lay down for twenty minutes to ponder the details. Egg Quest, once prepared, began at our Easter Tree - a small holly full of easter ornaments. The children happily busied themselves deciphering clues, trailing inside and out, super-powered by enthusiasm and the sugary contents of each plastic egg they found. The eggs out back were, as it turns out, forfeit to the dogs. (Who knew dogs like jelly beans but eschew malted robin eggs? One of the eggs seems to have been consumed entirely, plastic and all.) As the trail of clues thus broke down, the hunt became more of a free-for-all. Easter is at its best, though, when we move outside the box, isn't it?
Around six, Eve remembered we hadn't dyed the eggs, so we set set to it, vinegar and Paas tablets in great-grandmotherly teacups. She is in bed now, purple-fingered and blissful. Isaac is listening to some music he hopes to learn on trombone. Marc made it home in time for a family pre-bedtime viewing of Star Trek Voyager. I ran the vacuum and it again feels like humans live here. All is well, and all is well, and all is indeed well.
The world is alive and full of possibility.