There’s all sorts of impressions that go along with Easter. If you’re secular, there’s bunnies and Cadbury Creme Eggs and egg hunts with big baskets and blooming things and chicks. For the Christians, there’s Christ’s resurrection and Easter Lilies (which smell like death to me, I can’t stand them), and a new outfit to wear to the church crowded with people who only go that one day a year, and singing “Christ The Lord Has Risen Todaaaaay, aaa aaa aaa aaa haaa leh eh loo ooo yah” oh and let’s not forget it is now socially acceptable to wear white shoes and lightweight linen (at least here in the South). Then there’s a big meal with ham (why do we eat pork to celebrate the resurrection of a Rabbi? Wouldn’t lamb be more appropriate?) and relatives and screaming children hopped up on Cadbury Creme Eggs.
Only…not here. I was supremely grumpy this weekend, bordering on pathological. Not because of Easter, to be honest I celebrate Christ’s resurrection and all it implies on a daily basis. I didn’t have a new outfit, but that didn’t bother me (much). I looked, but never found anything I liked. We didn’t have relatives visiting and I was ok with that as well, since Mom and Dad will be here in a couple of weeks for the Savannah Scottish Games. But Terry was working all weekend. Don’t EVEN get me started on the type of heathenry involved with a person who makes his company run on Easter Sunday here in the Deep South, where 90% of the population belongs to a Christian church. And because he was working, I REALLY didn’t want to go to church and have to explain why he wasn’t there. I mean, I do it all the time and the church leadership understands his situation.. but Easter? REALLY? So no, church wasn’t appealing. SOOOOO….
While in the shower, church clothes reluctantly laid on the bed and me grumpy as a housewife with a sore toe, I had an epiphany. We would go to the beach. I finished washing up, and hollered at #4 to get on his swim trunks and find his goggles. 45 minutes later, with towels and a jug of cold iced tea and a copy of CS Lewis’ “Surprised by Joy” (I figured reading CS Lewis would compensate for not being at church that day), we hopped in the car, put the top down, and drove the 75 minutes to Tybee Island. By noon he was bodysurfing and I was comfortable in a beach chair reading my book. And I don’t regret a minute of it.
Thanks to the forethought of 50spf sunscreen, a light longsleeved shirt, and broadbrimmed hat, neither of us sunburned. It was 85 and breezy, and the tide was coming in so there were lovely big waves for him to ride. The beach was busy-ish, for Tybee Island, but plenty of room to spread out and build sand castles or feed crackers to seagulls…which you aren’t supposed to do but they were surprisingly polite about asking, and I only did it when the beach cops weren’t around. The water was a little cool for me, soI only got wet up to my thighs whenever I got a little warm from the sun, but #4, being 12, doesn’t feel cold like I do, and spent the entire time in the water. He was investigated by a school of dolphins, including a baby one who kept sticking his tail out of the water and smacking it. #4 said they got close enough that he could see them looking at him, and he ducked under the water and looked at them back.
So our Easter had no relatives. No candy or big baskets or new clothes or crowds, no sermon about resurrections or hams or deviled eggs. Just iced tea, cheese crackers, cool water and sand, and dolphins.