I went to our local farm store early this morning to drop something off, and there was just one person there, taking care of the one crop they still bring in every morning, even in March: eggs. The farmer was taking great care to wash the eggs, one by one, and line them up on a big fluffy towel. I noticed the simple beauty of it, the varied colors of the shells. I talked briefly with the farmer, and was on my way.

An hour later, during warrior pose in yoga class, the image of those brown eggs lined up on the white towel came flashing into my mind. This is not a normal experience during a pose like this, which requires focus, balance, and the tightening of many muscle groups. Usually there’s no room for thoughts.  For some reason, the image made my eyes sting with tears welling up, but there was no time for that, and no real reason anyway, so I moved on through the poses.

Later, when the teacher shifted to seated poses, I took note of the many Easter egg shapes on my mat. I’ve noticed them before, even counted them during forearm planks to keep my mind busy, but today, I thought, “Huh. More eggs.”

I dislike eating eggs, but I am a sucker for a symbol. An egg symbolizes new life, and in some cultures, luck and wealth, but in my Christian tradition, especially at this time of year, It means just one thing: resurrection. As a chick bursts forth from a shell, so too Jesus from the tomb. We don’t always think about it while eating the Cadbury, chocolate, jelly, and malted varieties of eggs, but that’s their origin story. Anyway, I have been in the market for resurrection lately, so I thought I would just let the idea simmer in my mind.

We said our namastes, left the yoga studio, and I got settled in the car. I turned on the radio to hear the middle of a discussion about the lasting shelf life and wholesomeness of eggs. Apparently, people used to keep them on countertops and the stamped grocery store expiration dates mean absolutely nothing, and it’s all fascinating, really, but all I could think about is: this is the third reference to eggs I’ve experienced today.

My mind kept simmering. Truthfully, I am crazy about a symbol, but my brain has not received one in some time, and I didn’t want to jinx or overthink anything. Sometimes an egg is just an egg. So, I went grocery shopping, where I bought zero eggs. Thankfully, our friends, Dave and Ci, have taken on the huge responsibility of raising chickens, so now we buy the good stuff from their home coop. My shopping trip was un-egg-ventful, and then I saw a friend in the parking lot, and we had a nice chat with zero egg references. I drove home.

After taking care of the groceries and the dog, I settled on the couch with a late lunch of no eggs, plus hummus, feta, cucumber, orange, and pita. I turned on the TV, excited to see that my DVR had captured the latest episode of ‘A Chef’s Life’. Gosh, I love that show. It’s a reality format, where a NYC chef returns home to Eastern North Carolina and opens a high-end restaurant there. We follow her challenges, her family, local farms and food producers, and each week she highlights one ingredient. Can you guess this week’s ingredient? Yup, eggs.

Alright, so this is the part where I would usually freak out and ascribe deep meaning to my many egg-sightings, but I’m not going to do that today. Yes, I need resurrection for me and mine, and yes, we are all ready for it. I like to think that God has raised my eyes to notice these silly egg-instances today and that He has a sense of humor about how they all came together. I am so ready for levity. But as for meaning, I think I’ll just prop open this door in my mind for a while until He comes in and lets me know just why I noticed eggs all day long today. It’s weird, right? Eggs. What do you think?