On Holy Saturday 1968, my mother came home from Aberdeen with an Easter present. No, not another Morgan baby, well not exactly anyway. It was a “baby” of sorts – a day-old yellow duckling. “You bought us what?” we all chimed in. Some kids get a new bike for Easter, or a new pair of shoes…we got a duck. Though it was a gift for all the Morgan children, yours truly, as the oldest, was expected to take care of it. My parents thought it would die in a few days, either from consumption, loneliness, or from our rough play with it. But to their surprise, he lived on for weeks, months, even years. “Quacky” (that was the profound “duck name” we gave him) became part of the family. He hung out in our yard for nine years before succumbing to old age. He was so popular that the Ipswich Tribune did a front page obit on him when he passed on to that great big duck pond in the sky. He walked with us or rode with us in numerous parades during the summer in our hometown. We would spend hours swimming with him in our small plastic pool (until we figured out what duck poop was). In the winter, Quacky would join us in sledding on mans-made snow mountains created by the bobcats plowing out our driveway. He would pull himself to the top by holding onto our pant legs, unfold his wings, stretch out his neck, and slide down head first on his belly as if he were a penguin. He loved water and worms and cat food, and occasionally my mother would have to shoo him out of the garden. He chased every dog out of our yard when they would intrude…and for that matter, every girl that I wanted to date too. He suffered from an identity crisis – he was torn between being a duck, a human or a cat. For all his quirkiness, Quacky was a constant reminder to us of the “surprise” that unfolds at Easter.” The resurrection is certainly unexpected; it’s even strange: An empty tomb, an angel, and the words, “He is risen.” This was not what the women and John and Peter were expecting to find or hear. And the story gets more fantastic as time goes on, so we read. Sort of like the story of Quacky. Let “us” always be reminded of the story of Easter, the great surprise, the baffling gift that brings life and love and grace to those who accept the unexpected – Christ risen from the dead – and then go with it. Happy Easter!
Keep up those Lenten promises!
Fr. Morgan