Easter’s gonna love this

By TIM BEELAND,

My daughter was only three years old when she blurted out the phrase that has become synonymous, at our house anyway, with the holiday we celebrate this week. “Easter’s gonna love this, ain’t he, momma?” she said all those years ago while admiring a group of bunnies and baskets spread on the coffee table.

Easter’s gonna love this indeed!

You gotta love the phrase. Or, maybe it is just the fact that it was uttered from the mouth of my own child that I find it especially adorable. Easter did love it that year and has continued to do so every year since. Unfortunately Rachel-Johanna is 26 now and out on her own making her way in life. I think she would rather we reimburse her for some bedside tables she bought last week than provide a basket of candy on Sunday morning. That’s fine and dandy, but sometimes I wish my little one had not grown up quite so quickly.

She does say she’s coming over to our house for Easter dinner. We’ll see. If she does she will have missed the dying of the eggs and there won’t be any Easter Egg Hunt either. I bet Easter’s probably not gonna love that. Me or Easter either one. No fun!

On a totally different subject, but still related to what Easter loves and all that jazz, I’ve been contemplating the jelly bean factor every time I pass that aisle in the store. So far not one jelly bean has passed through my lips this year. That’s a good thing as far as my belly is concerned but it’s a bad thing as far as my heart is concerned.

The problem with jelly beans and me is the fact that once started I can’t stop. At least I can’t stop until the bag is empty. All that sugar can’t be good for a 58-year-old, but it sure tastes good going down.

I’m probably gonna break down today, or tomorrow, and get my jelly bean fix on. Then a little while later I’ll look down and think, hmmm why did I eat the whole bag? And then in my case the words Jelly Belly won’t just be the name brand on the bag, it’ll be the way I look in the mirror too.

What the heck, by the time the holiday weekend comes to an end I’m sure there will be much worse splurging of the culinary kind. It could be ham, or lamb, or turkey. Fresh baked rolls and buttered corn and peas. We’ll have to devil some of those boiled eggs we dyed just to get rid of them since we’re not going to hunt them, and I’m sure something thick and rich and sweet will be on the desert menu as well.

So why in the world should I be concerned with a few dozen (hundred) sweet, tart, tangy, chewy, jelly bird eggs, jelly beans, Jelly Bellies, or what ever you want to call them? The weight and the waist watching can just wait till next week.

By then there’ll be plenty of yard work to take care of any caloric problems I might encounter.  That settles it. Jelly beans it is.

Still on the Easter “kind of” observations. There has been some mighty pretty Dogwood blooms along the roadside as of late. I’m always amazed at how the Dogwood knows exactly when to bloom and put on its show for this most sacred holiday. That’s God for you. He designed it that way and we should give the thanks to him when we sit down to Easter dinner and all the other times as well.

In the end we all know there is an awful lot of stuff going on in this country that is divisive, and ugly, and just plain mean. This holiday we ought to take time to look at the Dogwood, think about what those flowers represent, contemplate that and see if we can’t find some way to better get along.

Easter would love that. You better believe he would.