The Empty Egg
He was nine years old in the third grade suffering from Down’s syndrome. The third-graders did not really accept him because he was different.
One Sunday, after Easter, the Sunday School teacher took some plastic eggs that pulled apart, gave them to the children, and told them to go outdoors and discover some symbol of “new life” and place that symbolic seed or leaf or whatever in the egg. They would then gather back and open the egg and explain how it was a symbol of “new life”. One had a flower, another a butterfly. One put a rock in his just to be different.
When the nine year old opened his, it had nothing in it. “That’s not fair”, someone said. “That’s stupid”, said another. The SS teacher felt a tug at his shirt. “It‘s mine. I did it. It’s empty. I have new life because the tomb is empty. The class grew silent.
From that day on, he was accepted into the group, and on the day of his funeral, that whole Sunday School class with their teacher, confronted with the reality of death, marched up to the altar - not with flowers. Each one placed their gift of love, an empty egg, on the casket of their friend.