McDonalds Mini March Marathon -- The Butter Lamb

Unitarian Easter is not a big deal, although my cousins and I dyed eggs, we had an egg hunt at church, and my parents gave me a basket every year until I had Betsey, when they gave her a basket.  I always made baskets for the dog and cat.

My friends got new dresses and even new underwear, but as my mother pointed out, it was usually too cold for spring dresses and they had to wear coats and no one saw the underwear anyway.  I wore my “nice pants” (the ones that weren’t jeans – my mother was old fashioned that way) and whatever shirt was clean. (It’s supposed to be a cold Easter again.  The girls are complaining about having to wear coats over their new dresses.  I told them to offer it up.  Betsey pointed out that Lent would be over by Easter.  I said, “Well, pray that it warms up.”  I am not up to a theological debate with a ten-year-old.)

My grandmother or one of my aunts would have everyone over for dinner. One year, I found a lamb made of butter holding a red plastic flag and sitting in a bed of green Easter grass at the grocery store and begged my mother to let me take it to the dinner.

She said, “All right, but let’s not tell Daddy.”

I asked why and she looked uncomfortable.  “Let’s make it a surprise.”

My cousins loved the lamb, even after I told them it was butter and not white chocolate, and my grandmother kissed me and told me it was beautiful

The others weren’t so enthusiastic.

My father snorted and Uncle Hank said it was meaningless superstition.  Then my grandfather, who had been raised an Episcopalian, but had broken his parents’ hearts by becoming an atheist in college, said that Those People didn’t think it was meaningless;  the lamb represented Jesus, who supposedly was killed for everyone’s sins so they wouldn’t go to Hell.  He started singing “Oh Lamb of God/Sweet Lamb of God . . . Oh, wash me in your precious blood . . .” My cousin Jessica wailed, “Oh, the poor lamb!” and her sister Jennifer started crying.

Aunt Pooh stepped in and said that even though it was almost dinner time, we could each have one piece of candy.  Jennifer wiped her eyes and said, “How about two?”

We did get two pieces and no one’s appetite was spoiled.  The lamb stayed on the table, but every year after that my mother went food shopping by herself around Easter.

“Lamb of God” is one of my favorite hymns, although some priests don’t use it for fear it will scare off newcomers.  Cilla loves to sing it around the house, although Betsey says she is a big moron who doesn’t understand what it means.