Easter throwback

 

Easter circa 1976

Easter circa 1976

Easter circa 1976

Easter circa 1977

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I know,  I know.  Easter is over.  I had to share this with ya’ll, though.  Because, Easter is always so exciting.  Especially as kids.  The receiving of the proverbial Easter Basket from the Easter Bunny himself.  The Easter Frocks which always were accompanied by white gloves & a hat.  The coloring of the Easter Eggs.  Ahhh.. it was a wonderful time.

On Easter Sunday, we always went to church & then to my grandparents house.  Looking back, I can remember, one particular Easter when the weather was not very agreeable.  All of the grandkids had assembled at my Mamaw & Papaw’s house after church.  We ate our lunch with

Easter circa 1985.  My brother in his Rico Suave phase.  My cousin in her cuteness phase.  Me in my homegirl big bow stage, wearing my Mamaw's dress.  Sadly, not true.

Easter circa 1985. My brother in his Rico Suave phase. My cousin in her cuteness phase. Me in my homegirl big bow phase, wearing my Mamaw’s dress. Sadly, not really.

a heavy heart.  How were we supposed to hunt Easter Eggs with it pouring rain outside?  We must have looked pretty downtrodden.

Because low & behold Easter was not going to be terrible & disappointing!

Somebody suggested we hunt Easter Eggs in the house.  Now, let me remind you, this was the early 80s.  If plastic eggs were popular back then, well, we didn’t have any.  I don’t know what possessed Mamaw to let us hide Easter Eggs in her house.  But ya’ll, she did & we were very delighted to say the least. Because Mamaw had just saved Easter.

We hid & hunted eggs all afternoon.  It wasn’t as fun as being outside, but not much of anything ever was.  Anyway, a good time was had by all & that was that.  Or so we thought.  Fast forward about 6 weeks….my Mamaw was milling around the house & heard something back in the bedroom.  Walking back to her room, she smelled the awfulest smell she had ever smelled.  She got back to her room & started looking around.  She could not, for the life of her, figure out what was going on.  So, she started looking through her dresser, her vanity, her closet, & her chifferobe.  That’s when she realized what had happened.  One of our Easter Eggs had not gotten found & it exploded in her chifferobe.

Oh. My. Word. Ya’ll.

MAMAW’S UNDERWEAR DRAWER HAD A ROTTEN EGG IN IT.

Not just any rotten egg.  An EXPLODED rotten egg.  Needless to say, she washed & washed her unmentionables for no reason.  Because the smell would NOT come out.  In our family, word of Mamaw’s underwear got around pretty quickly.  Each of us grandkids were sternly questioned as to

WHO IN THE WORLD hid the egg in Mamaw’s DRAWERS drawer???”

I don’t readily recall who the final culprit was.  EXCEPT I knew with ALL my heart, this time, I was not to blame for ANY of it.

The guilty party was in this group of Easter Egg hiding kids.

The guilty party was in this group of Easter Egg huntin’ kids.

 

Mamaw was not too thrilled to have to throw away all her undergarments.  And she did declare, no more Easter Egg hiding in the house.  I am QUITE sure my Papaw was laughing to himself, at all of this.  He would have had to of been silently dying inside.  If Mamaw would have thought for an instance this was humorous to Papaw, well, that would have NEVER done.  She did not intend that she ever did anything for him to laugh at her about.  But, sometimes those moments just came.  Especially with us being her grandkids.  So, there you have it.  Reason 27 why we will never hide Easter Eggs in my house.  I know, I am a mean ol’ Grand.

Here are some other thoughts for today:

  Psalms 18: 1 I will love You, O Lord, my strength.
The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer;
My God, my strength, in whom I will trust;My shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.
I will call upon the Lord, who is worthy to be praised;
So shall I be saved from my enemies.(NKJV)

We should strive to have a rock solid faith of trust & that the Lord will take care of us, no matter what.  We need to remember, no matter what is going on in our lives, at the end of the day God is still in control.  No matter how worthless I may feel or how dim the outlook may be, I need to forever remember I truly matter to the God of love, truth, & hope.  No pain lasts forever.  No evil triumphs in the end.

I hope all of you had a blessed Easter.  It was overcast, for us. However, we still got out & hid eggs.  The grands ran amuck.  They played t-ball, too.  Each of the boys had a new ball & bat.  Which really didn’t matter if it were new or not.  When they started hitting each other in the face & head with them, they didn’t care if that bat were old or new.  It still hurt!  Not much crying.  A lot of “stand back” & “watch out” & “it will be your turn in a minute” was said.  My little Miss Priss grandbaby played in the wagon while we were outside. All & all I would say it was a wonderful day.  My Daddy came to be with us.  He had preached at a local church, Sunday.  He stopped by to eat & watch the kids hunt eggs.  Then, as is his duty, retired home to study his lesson for Sunday night.  Not before he ate a dog’s bait of the scrumptious pork loin my sweetie smoked.  But, he was not by himself.  We all did.  Until next time I have to be going because I should be washing clothes.

As much as we try to separate these two, they seem to always end up together.

As much as we try to separate these two, they seem to always end up together.

The best picture of me & the grandboys.  Mr. Sweetie Pants kept trying to run off, thus, the death grip I have on him.

The best picture of me & the grandboys. Mr. Sweetie Pants kept trying to run off, thus, the death grip I have on him.

Pretty sure this one was the same age as the grands, say yesterday.  I love this face.

Pretty sure this one was the same age as the grands, say yesterday. I love this face.

One last Easter throwback with my eldest & his big ol Easter Bunny circa 1999.

One last Easter throwback with my eldest & his big ol Easter Bunny circa 1999.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Credits- Our Daily Bread author Philip Yancey

 

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