For thirty some odd years, I went with my family for the Easter Vigil at a Catholic church and, for thirty some odd years, I looked forward to it for all the wrong reasons. During the first ten years, I looked forward to one thing when leaving the two hour ceremony; ironically, my mom’s deviled eggs.
Three guests were responsible for bringing three critical ingredients. Only one was wise enough to know not to arrive on a donkey with gold, frankincense or myrrh. This wasn’t Christmas. Jesus always struggled with the devil and bunnies. However, He was kind to the infinite degree.
Knowing they were coming (some not invited but wishing to attend), we prepared ourselves for the best, the worst, and some in the middle. Having faith in the greatness and significance of this day, we understood the best guest always showed up precisely when the worst was attempting to crash our pious Sunday gathering.
The Easter Bunny was kind of like the middle rodent or limbo. Delivering his eggs, we accepted him as though his was required for the deviled eggs. I swear, sometimes I was more afraid of that bunny than I was of the devil. To me, the bunny seemed to be much like a friendly ghost or even a friendlier sasquatch. Yet, I didn’t wish to see any of them! Out of fear of witnessing this strange ritual referred to as hunting on this sacred day , I never wished to peer out my bedroom window and happen upon the eyes of the 13 foot tall bunny hiding these eggs. Rather, I relied on prayer, daylight, blinds, and my God given speed. Courage was not on my Easter Resume.
I never saw the Easter Bunny…….thank Jesus.
Our family always had a great time locating the hidden eggs, because we knew that meant the giant rabbit was busy scaring other children in a different neighborhood, and those eggs, thanks to mom, were boiling before we even placed them in our comfortable basket.
Each Easter, we did, however, hear a sinister knock on our door when we were in the process of making the perfect deviled eggs. Of course, it was the devil, and mom, fearlessly, answered the door knowing he was bringing his red hot paprika which mother forgot at the store. (satan was actually bringing cayenne pepper) Just from pure genius, our mother knew the difference between paprika and cayenne pepper, much like recognizing the difference between good and evil.
And, that’s exactly, without calling first, satan makes an unwelcome pop in visit. The devil, annually, on this day seemed to be suffering from a tobasco sauce hangover. His spear shaped tail wasn’t waging and he even forgot his trident. We actually felt sorrow for him because, even though he wished to tempt us and poison us, he always departed peacefully, knowing who was going to knock on our door next. He, Jesus, knocked on our door, and without saying much more than, “Have a wonderful day, and here’s the Paprika”; Mom, while inviting him in, Jesus merely, and, respectfully declined the peaceful offer. I just think he was already full of those heavenly eggs, and just needed another nap………until next Easter.
Ingredients: eggs, mustard, sugar, mayonnaise, sweet pickle juice provided by my sister, Mary, and paprika provided by a very humble man.
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