Ostrich

My mother-in-law paints ostrich shells if she can get them. An ostrich shell is a hell of a thing. It is about half the size of a basketball, and it is at least 5 mm thick. It is also highly textured, with what seems to be a badly-done spackle job. The thought that occupied my mind was this: if it's a large strong egg, the bird it produces must be pretty darned big too.

Quite often, I've heard sermons on how sin begins that way. It is a small thing, it grows, and voila! it becomes a large and monstrous hatchling. But the egg is also a symbol of new life and rebirth; that's why spring festivals use eggs, and so does Easter (former pagan festival, now Christian feast). The same thing still applies: if it's a terrifying egg, it hatches a terrifying bird.

Over the weekend, I've had opportunity to reflect and learn a bit more. It strikes me that while the eggshell I find myself in is a lot less terrifying than a cold Jerusalem hillside tomb, it is still pretty fearsome to a mortal. I can only hope that I will hatch as some interesting and useful bird.