In a few short days, I’ll be joining my granddaughters and their children for an afternoon of Ukrainian pysanky egg dying. In this craft, we draw designs on white eggs, then carefully cover whatever areas we want to remain white with wax warmed by a candle, and then dye the whole egg with very light yellow. The process continues, with each dye bath darker than the one before, until its final stage, perhaps black highlighting the design. When the wax is removed, an incredible motif appears.
Many years ago, after watching a demonstration of this amazing art, I was eager to try it. I bought the kit holding a kistka (a little tool with tiny funnel end to hold the wax), beeswax, and dyes. And, of course, stumpy candles and lots of eggs. I was ready. The challenge was, it was mere days before Easter. Would I be able to complete them in time? It took family cooperation. The world would have to spin without my involvement for a while.
For three days, I blew eggs until my face hurt, stared into a lit candle that would melt the wax in the kistka until I couldn’t see straight. It was a marathon run, making one for each of our 16 family members. And I barely completed it by Saturday evening. Being my first attempt at pysanky, they were nice, though hardly the fine art of the photo here. But they were a work of love.
Doesn’t that put together the whole picture of Easter? The egg is symbolic of the resurrection, new life breaking out, as Christ, in His love for us, suffered, died, and then rose from the dead out of a tomb. “For Christ’s love compels us, because . . . he died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves but for him who died for them and was raised again.” (2 Corinthians 5:14, 15)
Alleluia, He is risen!