Anyone who has ever had Easter with me knows that eating the lamb cake is NOT my favorite thing. It doesn't really rank very high on the yummy cake chart. I make the cake and it sits on the table as a little Easter centerpiece, surrounded by jelly beans and green cellophane grass and I feel happy. I've never been sure why but I think it's because it was always the one "nice" activity of the otherwise scary and confusing holy week. All week long I would be told the litany of abuses and betrayals and outright torture that makes up the details of Jesus' last days. It was vivid and brutal and seemingly without end. On Saturday morning when we returned to church to have our cake blessed, there were no gruesome stories. There were prayers and holy water sprinkled about and there were wonderful smells. Other families brought their eggs, fancy breads, and even hams. I was never sure how it related to Jesus' death and resurrection but I was grateful for the reprieve.
Why have I let go of so much that was important to my family as a child and embrace other elements so fiercely? As I've gotten older, I realize how few people there are that share these holy week/lamb cake memories with me. Maybe the lamb cake is just one of the threads I'm not willing to cut -one of the threads that ties me to my unique family and keeps me a part of them no matter how much I change.
What's your lamb cake?