The Easter Grinch


Above is a picture of my pisanki, highly-decorated Easter eggs given me by a dear friend. They appear in my dining room at the beginning of Lent every year, and never fail to grace my Easter table. I dyed some hard-boiled eggs as well, but it would not be Easter without the pisanki, those reminders of spring and resurrection. 

Aside from the pisanki, nothing about Easter was normal, and I feel I turned into an Easter Grinch. Church, of course, was online. I’m getting adjusted to that, but my laptop kept notifying me that my internet connection was unstable. We had many attendees, which may have been a factor. In any case, audio and video kept freezing for me, especially during the sermon, which was unfortunate. I needed a few words of hope and glory! Grinch grumbling on my end occurred. 

At dinner, there were only three of us this year. Our son’s girlfriend had been invited, but she is quarantined up in Bergen County, one of our New Jersey hotspots. Our daughter, her fiancé, and his kids are quarantining in Myrtle Beach. Our meal was the meal I had bought for Christmas, before I realized we were invited to our daughter’s house. It consisted of a filet mignon roast from our nearby Amish market, and lobster tails. I had shoveled all of it into the freezer before we left home on Christmas Eve morning. The roast was delicious. But ...

Note to self: don’t freeze lobster tails for 4 months. Probably you should never freeze them at all. And don’t EVER freeze Pillsbury crescent rolls. You’ll be sorrrrry! When the package didn’t pop open, I sensed doom. More Grinch grumbling ensued. 

Then there was the weather. I have many friends in the south, so I had the Weather Channel on most of the day, keeping track of them as the orange and red bloomed across the TV screen, and the warning boxes popped up. What a hellish thing to go through. Thankfully, I believe my friends are all OK. 

So, I’ve had happier Easters. Fortunately, Easter doesn’t depend on me, or on my mood, or on who gathers around my table. Or on whether I’m serving rubber lobster. Or on whether I’m channeling the Grinch. 

Easter, like Christmas, comes anyway. Jesus does just fine without my help. If I learned anything from Dr. Seuss, that was it. 

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