Dyeing and Rising
The kids and I dyed Easter eggs tonight. We started with two dozen and, between a couple of accidents and an intentional consumption, wound up with 21.
My childhood recollections of dyeing eggs conjure it as an hours-long event that took most of an afternoon. Our go at it lasted somewhere around 17 minutes. Prep and clean-up, of course, took much longer than that, especially given the orange dye incident.
I had used an eight-cup measure to pour the cold water into all the fizzy vinegar-and-color tablet concoctions, and that vessel sat empty on the table when the last egg was colored. So, thinking this would be a good time for a hands-on color-combining lesson, I said, "Who wants to have fun with colors?"
Our boy shouted, "Me!" And before I knew what was happening, he violently poured the entire contents of the orange dye cup into the eight-cup measure, which I was holding in my hand. Like a skateboarder in a half-pipe, the fancifully hued liquid shot over the top of the container, splashing onto the table, the boy, and the upholstered dining chair on which he had been sitting.
As I attempted to scrub the spots out of the chair, I wondered whether the stains were the connection between coloring Easter eggs and what Easter's REALLY about...
Here's the link I came up with: We dye eggs to remind us of the stain that was washed away by the death and resurrection of Jesus. We can try to clean it up ourselves, as I did with the chair, but it doesn't work. We need something divinely cleansing to do it.
Now I just have to chew on where the bunny enters the equation.
My childhood recollections of dyeing eggs conjure it as an hours-long event that took most of an afternoon. Our go at it lasted somewhere around 17 minutes. Prep and clean-up, of course, took much longer than that, especially given the orange dye incident.
I had used an eight-cup measure to pour the cold water into all the fizzy vinegar-and-color tablet concoctions, and that vessel sat empty on the table when the last egg was colored. So, thinking this would be a good time for a hands-on color-combining lesson, I said, "Who wants to have fun with colors?"
Our boy shouted, "Me!" And before I knew what was happening, he violently poured the entire contents of the orange dye cup into the eight-cup measure, which I was holding in my hand. Like a skateboarder in a half-pipe, the fancifully hued liquid shot over the top of the container, splashing onto the table, the boy, and the upholstered dining chair on which he had been sitting.
As I attempted to scrub the spots out of the chair, I wondered whether the stains were the connection between coloring Easter eggs and what Easter's REALLY about...
Here's the link I came up with: We dye eggs to remind us of the stain that was washed away by the death and resurrection of Jesus. We can try to clean it up ourselves, as I did with the chair, but it doesn't work. We need something divinely cleansing to do it.
Now I just have to chew on where the bunny enters the equation.
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