Easter Surprise

It was Easter morning when I made my pilgrimage back to the church where I grew up.  Arriving a smidge late, I managed to sneak in while hymnals were held high and voices bellowed spirited “alleluias.”  I slid into the spot next to Grandma who greeted me with a smile and gave me a squeeze with her soft, 93-year-old hands producing the warmth of a hug. 

The service was cruising right along as I settled into my Sunday morning reverie logging the Easter usual’s:  children’s sermon preaching Jesus over bunny with candy (check), white hairs all wearing vibrant Easter egg colors (check), story of the ladies finding the uncovered tomb and learning of the resurrection (check).  I then drift deep in thought about what it means to anoint a corpse knowing how ill at ease I am around dead things.  First flashback – finding my angel fish floating in its tank with a nearby Bud Light can and a college roommate swearing, “No one even went near the tank at the party.”  Second flashback – finding a dead bird in my backyard and the difficulty I had touching it with the shovel when I squeamishly tried to flip it into the garbage can.  Let’s face it, if I had been sent to a tomb and found it empty there would have been “alleluias” coming from me since I wouldn’t have to prepare a corpse that had been sitting in a cave for a few days! 

My careful considerations were interrupted by the minister when I heard, “There is wine on the inner ring and grape juice on the outer ring of the communion tray.”  Wine? What? We had always been a church of Welch’s.  When did wine hit the menu? I sat at attention as the tray made its way, snaking through the rows.  As it came closer I could see there were still glasses left in the inner ring!  I already smelled the bouquet of pinot noir wafting through the air as it reached my row.  The elderly lady next to me carefully selected her glass from the inner ring and gave a sly smile as she delivered the tray to my hands.  I selected from the inner ring as well and passed the precious cargo on to Grandma whose curled fingers reached for the inner ring just as my mother grabbed the tray.  Grandma then pulled her hand back and selected a glass of juice from the outer ring.  Her opportunity to grab a little booze before heading back to the home was dashed by my mother and her quick reflexes.

I sat clasping the small plastic vial of goodness and waited as the tray continued on throughout the rows.   Soon all vials had all been distributed and I heard the words, “Take and drink.” I sipped slowly to breath in the aroma and savor the flavor of the earthy, red berry when suddenly my brain caught up with my senses and I realized my dream of a lovely pinot had been dashed by a very real 2-Buck Chuck experience.  I’m guessing a wine list was not provided at the Last Supper so I take and drink and sit there quietly.  I later think about how the church fulfilled my dream of having real wine at a service without having to drink out of a chalice shared by an entire congregation.  I also think about how next year I will arrive earlier to set up a block to allow Grandma the opportunity to sip a little vino so her cheeks can flush to match her blazer.  Happy Easter!

There is balanced, imbalanced and somewhere in between you'll find Kimbalanced.