Thursday, May 28, 2009

A new trick for coloring Easter Eggs, Courtesy of Author Elizabeth Walker

I can't wait for Easter to try this - to be honest we may just try it before. With a 4 and 5 year old, and a husband that doesn't have a whole lot of patience, this sounds like the perfect way to color Easter eggs. And I bet the colors turn out fabulous! Here it is - thanks so much Elizabeth for sharing!

An "ooooh! Ahhhh!" Egg coloring recipe.
I know, I know - Easter is over but....It really is my favorite recipe! After I share it with you, If you'll bear with me, I'll explain why.

What you need:
Small eggs (not boiled)
Old SILK ties, blouses, or boxer shorts with colorful patterns (Thrift stores are a great place to pick these up!)
Old WHITE cotton sheet, t-shirt or pillow case
Twist ties
Vinegar
Glass or enamel pot ( no reactive metal because you will adding the vinegar )


What you do with it:
Cut your old silk ties and white cotton fabric into squares big enough to wrap around the entire egg.
Wrap the unboiled egg snugly in a silk square, with the bright side of the pattern against the eggshell. Wrap the white cotton fabric square snuggly on the outside of the silk and twist tie at the top.
Put wrapped eggs into the pot and fill with water.
Add ¼ cup of vinegar to pot of water.
Bring to boil.
Reduce heat and cook for 20 minutes.
Remove wrapped eggs with tongs and allow eggs to cool.
Unwrap your little masterpieces!!

I packed up my 4 messy (as usual) little boys and headed to my mother in law’s house on the Saturday before Easter. We always get together for holidays. We don’t always color eggs together, but this year she and my sister in law asked if we could. Now, I want you to understand that I love Easter, I do – but I don’t love my dyed fingers or the thin, dark line that stains the underside of my fingernails making it look like I haven’t washed since the last time I made a mud pie, or the pastel colored children that are most always the result of dying Easter eggs! We do it every year, but if I can be honest for a moment - I dread those messy little dye tablets…I do, I really really do (I couldn’t possibly be alone here). So, I was looking forward to trying the "tie dye". It sounded different and fun, and less messy, so…off we went to "tie dye" our Easter eggs.

The boys and their two cousins (on their father’s side) set to work, only slightly enthusiastically at first, on wrapping the eggs in their ties. We all talked and giggled and wondered what each pattern was going to look like, hoping they would turn out bright and beautiful. Eventually the kids wandered off and left us three ladies to begin the boiling. The kids played and bounced and giggled in the background while Mother and daughters in-law giggled and swapped stories in the kitchen. I hadn’t really had fun dying Easter eggs since I was little. I wasn’t even entirely confident in how the eggs would look when they came out, but I was enjoying myself and the kids were enjoying themselves…..and there was no dye on the carpet, fingers, shirts, table cloth, etc!

After boiling and cooling the eggs, we all gathered together again to unveil the patterns and colors that were transferred onto the eggs. Little fingers grabbed and unraveled one at a time. From the first egg right down to the very last, the kitchen was filled with "oooohh’s," and "aaaaahhh’s," and "This one’s mine," and "Mom, this one’s for you!" They were beautiful, and every one that we opened was so different from the last even though some of them were created with the same tie. The kids loved it. The adults loved it. It was a major Easter egg success.

Well, leave it up to me to try to find a lesson in everything, but I couldn’t help it. In the car on the way home I found myself thinking about how, we wrapped these plain white eggs in patterns and colors that we loved, and hoped would turn out great, but really – in the beginning – it was just that; hope. We didn’t really know how they would turn out, we just put our best into them and, well …. Hoped the best would come out.

It seemed so similar, in essence, to raising the very children that prepared the eggs for the pot. Every day we wake our children, clean them, feed them, tell them we love them, remind them to be good and do what’s right – then we send them (at times reluctantly) out the door to the "boiling pot" out there in the big world, and we hope that we have wrapped them well enough in morals and common sense and faith, that they will come out of the pot unique and magnificent. Sometimes we worry, other times we wonder, all times we hope. All in all, I suspect our little patterns will transfer – a little different on one than on another – but they will transfer….so long as we don’t let ourselves get too worried about the mess, and make sure that we spend the time it takes to wrap them up well in all the "colors" that we want to share with them. When the day comes that my kids take off the wrappings I struggled to keep on them, and head for the boiling pot of their own accord, I suspect my heart will make noises similar to the ones in the kitchen on that happy Saturday before Easter this year, as little by little I get to witness the masterpiece that each of them has turned out to be.


About the Author:

Elizabeth Walker is the author of the memoir, The Tablet of My Heart. You can visit her website at www.tabletofmyheart.net.

About the Book:

The world turns upside down for a young girl when her father begins a fatal battle with the merciless affliction cancer. Before his illness finishes it’s devastating rampage through her adolescence, she is confronted by a new demon. She falls victim, by the hands of a trusted adult, to sexual abuse. The devastation of these events causes her to question God’s roll in her life, and whether He ever loved her at all. The Tablet of My Heart is a collection of Poetry from the journal of that young girl. It is narrated by the author of the journal herself, who paints a portrait of words illustrating her emotional journey from hopelessness to healing. It is dedicated to victims of abuse; to bring to them the realization of hope that there is a light at the end of the silence.

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