A Tale Of Two Cupcakes

11:00am church had an Easter Potluck after service last Sunday, and I waited until the very last minute to ask Gertrude the Organizer Chick what she was missing. She said cupcakes, and I said Cool! I can bring cupcakes! I would make them myself, but I have two rewrites that take up all my baking time, so I trot over to Ralph’s to pick up a Cupcake 12 Pack.

I find myself on the hunt for cupcakes that have Easter Bunnies and Duckies on them. Any church talk that laments how Easter has been corrupted by the candy corporations just makes me laugh. It’s not an either/or thing to me. It’s a both/and. I can celebrate Christ’s resurrection AND stuff my face with Cadbury Crème Eggs. As one of the praise songs goes, “Every good and perfect gift comes from You.” And there is nothing more good, more perfect in terms of Easter Candy, than the Cadbury Crème Egg. Therefore, my Lord and Savior WANTS me to have the Crème eggs. He WANTS me to have the Peeps. He WANTS me to have the Whopper Speckled Eggs, the Reese Pieces in a bag the shape of a carrot. And I can close my eyes and thank God for sending His son to die for my sins too. I can do it all. Both/and. (I am not, however, bringing Cadbury Crème Eggs to the potluck, because I am incredibly selfish and want them all for myself, ha ha ha.)

So I find just the cupcakes I’m looking for. They’re right here, see? Aren’t they the cutest? Little bunnies and duckies and eggs? Awwwwwww! Overlook the psychedelic multi-colored frosting, that wasn’t on the twelve pack I picked up. Thank goodness.

So I march into church with my defiantly secular cupcakes, and find Gertrude in the kitchen. “Here ya go!” I say with a big grin. “Thanks!” she matches my grin, turns, and puts the cupcakes on top of another 12 pack of cupcakes. Now, it’s not that I thought I’d be the only one bringing cupcakes, because this Potluck is supposed to be feeding close to a hundred people and I don’t have that kind of cash.

But the other cupcakes have CROSSES on them. I kid you not! Crosses! Like this! But twelve of them! On twelve cupcakes! They even look exactly like my Bunny and Chickie Cupcakes! I think it’s the same manufacturer! But they have CROSSES on them!

And instantly I feel stupid. My defiantly swinging secular mood dissipates in the blink of an eye. You didn’t try hard enough to find the cupcakes with crosses on them. You’re not Christian. You’re a POSER! You couldn’t find religious cupcakes! You don’t know what Easter’s about! Your Lord and Savior sent His son to die for you and YOU DON’T CARE! God doesn’t love you! God hates you and your Bunny and Chickie Cupcakes! And now EVERYBODY KNOWS IT!

Sigh. I go back to the main service and sing the songs, and listen to the sermon about the Torn Curtain at the resurrection (which certainly beat 8:45am church’s sermon of Make This Church Your Home Church, And Oh By The Way. Jesus Is Risen Today Which We Will Celebrate With A Cringe Inducing Liturgical Dance.)

But the most amazing thing happens. Towards the end of the Potluck (which I eat more carbs and more sugar than I have in the past two weeks. I’m stunned that I made it home and into bed for the resulting Food Coma without falling asleep at the wheel and crashing into the local Koo Koo Roo.) I’m cruising by the dessert table to see if the Bunny and Chickie cupcakes are bravely holding up in the face of Overt Religious Yummies. And something like EIGHT of them are gone, while Team Religious Cupcake only has FOUR takers!

YAAAAAAHHHHHHH! MY BUNNY AND CHICKIE CUPCAKES ARE KICKING YOUR ASS! TAKE THAT, UM, UM, CROSSES!

Don’t tell me I don’t know what’s a crowd pleaser when it comes to cupcakes! Take THAT! And THAT! And THAT THAT THAT!

Did I mention I have the most irrational thoughts from time to time?

Anyhow, I decide to take a Crosscake to make whoever brought them feel better. And once I finish eating it I stumble upon the reason the Bunny and Chickie Cupcakes rule. Because the Crosscake is all sorts of yummers. But now I’m staring at a small plastic cross in my hand. And I can’t throw it away. You can throw away a Bunny head. You can throw away a Chickie head, the Easter Bunny isn’t gonna hunt you down. But I can’t throw away a plastic cross. Because wow, that would REALLY mean I don’t know what the meaning of Easter is about, right? Your Lord and Savior sent His son to die for you and YOU’RE THROWING IT AWAY! LITERALLY!

I’m congratulating myself on being defiantly secular yet Christian, and everyone else at the Potluck is just trying to duck the wrath of God and get a sugar high at the same time, ha ha ha.

So I keep the cross. It’s sitting next to my computer right now, actually. I’m trying to figure out what to do with it. Maybe I’ll put it next to my year stash of Cadbury Crème Eggs. Maybe.