The Easter Squirrel strikes again!

Who knew it was the Easter Squirrel, not the Easter bunny.

(For my little Zimmy, like her mother she is the beauty of Babylon)

It's Easter morning. Christ has risen from the dead. Hallelujah. God our father up in heaven knew the perfect time to send his son Jesus to die on the cross for our sins, be buried for three days then be raised from the dead. He went back to Heaven and sits at God’s right hand asking God to forgive us not because we deserve it, but because he paid the debt we own with his own blood. And God does exactly that for anyone who will ask him to. God forgive me for Jesus' sake. Amen. Easy for you but Hell on the Messiah.

God is the master of timing. He’s the master of everything come to think of it. And this morning he planned things perfectly to cheer me up. I am at the tail end of a ragger cold. I’m weak and tired and the last thing I want to hear in the morning is my dog Wulliver P. Mulliver bark, “Daddy let me out of my crate. I need to go pee.”

Lately we have reached a detente. At twelve midnight he gives a sharp little, “I want a drink of water,” bark. I let him out and don’t want to wait for him to finish drinking to put him back in his cage. So last night, the night before Easter Morning I just told him, “Go back to bed.” Then I went back to my old brown leather recliner where I sleep since COVID and fell asleep.

And like a good boy Gully actually went back into his cage to sleep. But at six thirty I heard a chirp in my right ear. I heard it through the earplugs in my ear. It was not a sparrow or wren. It was the black crow of the morning walk, Gully my Scottish Terrier. He was at the bottom of the steps right by the gate that kept him from climbing up stairs to Mama’s bedroom. He was chirping plaintively. Of course, Mama, being a light sleeper, heard it and roused. He stamped his feet impatiently. She came down and scrubbed and loved him and he was happy. Then she got his lead and woke up Melly his sister while I grudgingly got dressed. Why wasn’t there a young man or woman to take my dogs out on these early morning walks. Someone else.

I was the young man. No longer young. I needed the walks to keep healthy. But God in heaven, so happy it was Easter morning, the day his son rose from the dead had something in mind to cheer me up. As I stepped out the door I saw a squirrel. Not the black squirrel that grants you wishes and candy if you see him in your tree. The ones I been praying that God would send to live in my trees. Not that one. Just a regular grey one. He was hopping across the front yard like the Easter Bunny. The Easter Bunny is something we invented to sell more candy and chocolate eggs and stuff. You can look up the history right along with the history of Santa Claus. We know it’s not real, just like that raise you were hoping to get but somehow never materializes. But we love the Easter Bunny. Love God but somehow make room in our hearts and our mouths for the Easter Bunny.

Ok, so it was the Easter squirrel I saw, not a bunny. Hop, hop, flit. He had something pink in his mouth. It looked like a plastic Easter Egg. We buy them, fill them with candy and chocolate then have our little kids go on an Easter Egg hunt in the fields to see what the Easter Bunny has hidden for them. If you’re lucky they’ll be a Cadbury Chocolate Egg. Made in England they are a wonderful, delicious cream filled, chocolate covered rush of pure sugar goodness. You eat one and they are soo impossibly sweet the sugar hits you in the back of the neck like a two by four. So, you eat a few more to make sure. And you can only find them at Easter so you take your punishment like a man.

When my lovely Zimmy comes to live in America with her mama and family I will get her Graham’s chocolate Easter Bunny Eggs which are sooo much better than Cadbury’s she will no doubt give me the Stink Eye and ask, “Uncle Frankie, if you loved me so much what the heck was with those rat bastard Cadbury eggs when your little niece coulda been eating the good stuff. Forgive me Zimmy. It was a moment of weakness. And from here on out you and I will go to Graham’s chocolates in Wheaton and Geneva IL when you need your Easter fix. Love you sweetie. Mmmwaaaa!

So, this squirrel hopped up onto the tree with what looked like a pink plastic Easter Egg. I was curious and went over to see. He dropped the egg and scuttered up the tree. It fell to the ground and opened. The two pink shells had little white stars on them. That was an upgrade. But in the middle, whole and as yet untouched was a fresh new Cadbury Chocolate Easter Egg.

The young neighbors across the street had had an Easter Egg hunt yesterday and one of them got missed by the kiddos. But not by Frisky the hopper. In his whole young life he’d never smelled anything half as good as this thing. And he was on his way up the tree with his treasure to experience first hand why a young squirrel should never, never, never eat a Cadbury Chocolate Egg. It would have made him sicker than a dog. I picked it up and and looked up and told him. I’m not gonna let you have this. This will make you sick. I put it in my pocket. Gully, who one time stole a piece of chocolate, knew what it was and offered to carry it for me. No Gully, this is not for you either.

I finished my walk, and came home. And I thought about the goodness of God. Sending his son to die, be buried and resurrect from the dead to save me from my sins. Giving us Easter Morning to celebrate. And sending me out at exactly the right time to save that squirrel from the effects of that poor little guy devouring that terrible chocolate egg which would have made him really, really sick. And he gave me this story too. So, I’m sharing it with you. And as I finish this piece I realize, someone has still got to eat that yummy Cadbury Egg.

Happy Easter. He is risen. He is risen indeed. Go have a Cadbury. Or three. The End.