As I was walking this morning, my thoughts drifted back to another Easter season many years ago. It may have been almost 70 or so years since this scene was played out, but I do remember that it was an odd Easter event. Growing up in Chattanooga as we did, the weather was fickle. Easter should be in the Spring, but we had 6 inches of snow on that one particular Holy Day. Since it was too cold and too deep for our usual Easter egg hunt, and we had, with much fanfare, dyed all of our eggs the day before, our parents let us have the hunt indoors.
The way I remember the day, our parents hid the eggs, and we searched until we found them all. Then they let us take turns doing the hiding. Much fun was had by all, but when we counted the eggs at the end of that time, we were one short, and, with so many different people hiding, finding and playing the game, no one could identify who had hidden the one that could not be found. We looked everywhere we could think and then had to give up. It would turn up one day, we figured.
And so it did. Some days later, a strange pungent odor began wafting through the house. It was sorta like sulfur, and, as I now know, it was the smell of rotten eggs. We found the egg in a vanity table, but were never allowed to hide real eggs in the house again.
That is a long story, but it got me to thinking about when that happened in my life, and how long it had been since that one incident. Then when I read this verse in the Psalms:
"My times are in your hand;"
... I thought of what the rest of my days might look like, and of course I have no idea how they will be. The possible scenarios are endless, but I know they are coming. God knows the date and the hour, and it is not for me to worry about. I only want my life to be a blessing right up to the end. Each and every day until then, I have the opportunity to bring the right kind of fragrance into the world I live in, and not be remembered as sulfur.
I also know why we bought plastic eggs to use in case of inclement weather.
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