My heart is warmed to remember the Easter Sundays of my childhood, awakening early on those bright mornings to pastel colored Easter baskets overflowing with chocolate candy, Easter Eggs and a stuffed bunny or two.
One Easter Sunday in particular stands out in my memory. I was not much more than two. As I drift back to that day I can remember stumbling into my grandparent's house as only a clumsy two-year-old can. I can hear spicy hot, bulk sausage frying in my grandmother's black iron skillet in the kitchen and smell its intoxicating aroma blended with that of yeasty, home-made biscuits baking in the oven. We arrived that morning just come from the home of my other grandparents where we had stayed the night, Momma, Daddy and me.
Momma had already dressed me in my new, powder blue Easter frock to go to church. Everything I wore was new on Easter, down to the white patent, Mary Jane shoes that turned my white, lace-trimmed socks blue next to the new leather. On most Easter Sunday's the girls and their mommas wore corsages made of white carnations pinned to the left just under their chins. We carried our Bibles with us, along with matching purses and money set aside for the "offering plate." Some years we even wore gloves or hats, or both. It was a special day.
On this Easter Sunday my cousin KayKay and I were surprised to recieve a yellow baby duck and two baby chicks, one dyed fuschia and the other turquois. To this day I question my grandparents' sanity, for who would dye baby chicks and who would give vulnerable baby animals to a 2-year-old and a 5-year-old? But then I remember most grandparents are crazy about their grandbabies, and we loved our chirping, fuzzy bird-babies, even if it wasn't the wisest choice in retrospect.
I can not tell you how short the life expectancy is for baby bunnies, chicks and ducks given as gifts on Easter Sunday, but I know for a fact there were three that flew to the barnyard of Glory well loved and long before dusk. This is why I ask you to think twice before surprising your own children or grandchildren. However, for three little animals whose lives could only be counted in hours, their memory has lasted a lifetime in my heart.
If you focus your Sundays on faith, family, food, and fun (but please, no feathers), you'll create memories that will last a lifetime, too.
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