Big, white cups sat on the table. I was given the task of dropping the tablets one in each cup. Mom topped it off with boiling water and vinegar. Ah, yes, Easter was on the way.
I was 2 years old when Steve Nelson and Jack Rollins wrote “Here Comes Peter Cottontail.” These guys also wrote “Frosty the Snowman.” Songs that were around throughout my childhood. Mom had the sheet music and would pound out the tunes on the piano. I learned the words probably as early as I learned to walk.
I am not so sure that I ever believed that a big, white rabbit came to our house on Easter. We had rabbits back in the hutches in the chicken yard, so the thought of one of those capable of opening the door to the house while carrying a basket of eggs seemed a little over the top; however, due to that scenario, it wasn’t too far fetched that the rabbit had only to walk from the hutch to the chicken house to get his eggs. Hmm. Food for thought for small children.
This was the one time of the year that I wore a hat. A cute little, white hat was perched atop my head with an elastic strap beneath my chin. I usually made it to church in the sweet hat only to ditch it once we arrived. When we closed the house back the lane, the little hat still sat upon the top shelf in the wardrobe. My sisters were notorious for setting me up for trouble. Of course, when you are seven and ten years younger, I guess your ‘naiveness’ is a great deal of fun for the older sibs. Instead of “Up from the grave He arose”, I was taught “Up from the gravy He arose.” I’m sure Mom popped someone up side the head on Easter morning. Sad thing was that I always sang as loud as possible.
I do not remember ever having a real Easter basket. No huge baskets filled with toys and candy, wrapped in cellophane. In fact, I cannot remember receiving any candy. Easter was not about that big, white rabbit coming through the door. It was the excitement of celebrating a Savior raised from the grave. As I have grown older, I even find that it is not about that rock rolled away. It is about that message of extreme sacrifice for love. A cloak I can put on that says love all people. A mantra to follow in giving all, including our lives, for the love of all humankind.
There is a funny thing that happens when you dye brown eggs. The colors are not always pure. You end up with different shades of red, blue, green, orange and yellow. They are different but still lovely in their uniqueness. Not so different from people. We come in all colors and from all different places. If we truly believe in that Man who walks with us still, we should do our best to see those colors beautifully blended.
“Bringing every girl and boy, baskets full of Easter joy.” Let us pray that this Easter the love that was given is shown to all.
Pamela Loxley Drake is a former resident of Darke County and is the author of Neff Road and A Grandparent Voice blog. She can be reached at email@example.com. Viewpoints expressed in the article are the work of the author. The Daily Advocate does not endorse these viewpoints or the independent activities of the author.