Today’s find: Emmaus egg

I’m thinking maybe the egg moved.

Despite the concerted efforts of our highly-skilled and determined cohort of hunters (some of whom were completing their third yard-search of the day), our Easter Sunday event had come up one orb short of eggs-ellence: 39, not 40, plastic eggs had been retrieved from their various hiding places.

C’mon, guys…can’t you find just one more egg?

So I was intrigued, if not entirely surprised, early last week to come across a single egg perched in quite an obvious spot on the ground. There’s no way our intrepid crew could have missed it on “that very day, the first day of the week.” Surely, the egg itself had moved – dislodged, perhaps, by “a strong driving wind” from its secure spot in a nearby yew.

A week and a day later, the egg magically appears…

Mystery solved. Or is it?

The question stirs my heart on this Third Sunday of Easter, when we are called to reflect on things that wind up being hidden from our eyes – at least for a time. Peter, speaking to the crowd in Jerusalem, proclaims “the resurrection of the Christ” in the passage we hear from the Acts of the Apostles – an event that had been lost on many of those who’d come to city for the feast.

And then in the gospel reading (from Luke), we meet Cleopas and his companion as they travel the road from Jerusalem to Emmaus.

And it happened that while they were conversing and debating, Jesus himself drew near and walked with them, but their eyes were prevented from recognizing him.

Just as with the women who’d visited Jesus’ tomb earlier that day, “Him, they did not see.” Hidden, He was, from their view – at least until they paused a bit to set aside their agenda and share a simple meal.

There’s something about the pause, I think, that can wind up being sacred. The thought occurred to me the day after I found our lost egg, as I accompanied my dear wife for a surgery to remove some cancerous tumors. My, what an efficient process it was! A dozen or more expert care-givers, each taking on a specific task according to a tightly-mapped schedule. One nurse compared the scene to a NASCAR pit-crew – all kinds of people comin’ at you, some not even stopping to explain what they were about to do.

A hubby feels kind of extraneous in that sort of situation – a lost egg, not really good for much. Except this, perhaps: to gaze tenderly upon his wife. To remind the expert and efficient care-givers that they are about to operate on a person beloved to himself, and to many.

To help them see, with Easter eyes, the presence of Christ in their midst.

Sure, I’d even head to the Scottish Highlands…to let my Sweetie know that I love her!

PS: We’re delighted to report that those expert care-givers all did a marvelous job — Gerri’s surgery was successful, and she’s recuperating nicely from the procedure!

Let us pause now…to recall that we are in the presence of the Holy & Merciful One.

IHS