On this Good Friday, I’m thinking back over the years of my family’s traditions at Easter. In reading my post Easter Past, Easter Present written in April of 2019, I recall the days around this special holiday when I was a girl. I noted that as much as we all loved Christmas, there were things I liked more about Easter:

“Easter was filled with the sunny promise of new life.  The spring and summer days ahead would bring the crops to harvest in the fields by our house, the farm coming to life after the dormant period.” Now, I look out to my patio area and see weeds and wild onions springing up through the gravel. The flower bed is edged in the pink ice plant with the tropical fuchsia color, so alive in this early spring heat. Since it’s April 18th, we’re beyond frost and I can safely plant my seeds — morning glories and sunflowers, my favorites.

On Easter weekend when I was a child, Daddy would be busy outside preparing the fields for planting and Mama was busy inside. “She sat at her Singer sewing machine, finishing up the last of her three daughters’ dresses. Often she was up late into the night and still managed to get up early Easter morning to attend the sunrise service.” As a girl, I was in awe of Mama’s ability as a seamstress. How could she pay such close attention to detail, even late at night when she had to be so tired? Years later, when I had two sons, I thought it must be for the best that I hadn’t had girls; I would not be able to follow my mother’s example and make those pretty dresses; better to buy short sets and ties for my little fellows.

I was proud to wear my new dress to the Easter Sunday worship service at Shallow Well United Church of Christ, our family’s home church since my grandparents. Those services were my favorite of the entire year:

“The best part of the worship service was singing triumphantly, “Christ the Lord is Risen Today!” which was sung with more energy than most hymns. During the sermon, I mostly daydreamed about joining my cousins for lunch and an Easter egg hunt at Grandma Smith’s. There, after a heavy lunch of ham, chicken, deviled eggs, and all kinds of side dishes and desserts, our aunts would hide those colorful candy eggs in the bank of pink and lavender ‘thrift’ (which I later learned was creeping phlox).”

I planted thrift at the house my husband and I built in 1994 and lived in for 20 years. I thought I would be hiding eggs for my grandchildren beneath those lavender blooms just as my aunts had. But by the time my first grandson, Baker was born in 2018, we moved. His first Easter it rained and I hid eggs for his older cousins inside on chairs, and bookcases, and windowsills. He watched those cousins and was ready to do the same the following Easter.

Since then, he and his little brother have always loved having egg hunts — no matter the time of year, finding secret places in my townhouse to either ‘hide or seek’ the eggs.

This year my grandsons will be spending Easter in Tennessee with their other grandparents. I’ll miss them being here, but know we’ll create Easter when they return, hiding the eggs and loving our time together. In the meantime, I’ll start clearing the weeds and wild onions from my patio and bring in fresh topsoil for the new plants. I’ll find one of my store-bought, spring dresses to wear to church with my boyfriend. Afterwards, we’ll eat the lunch I’ll prepare of ham, deviled eggs, potato salad, green beans, and rolls with angel food cake and strawberries for dessert.

Afterwards, I’m sure I’ll feel the hope of Easter Sunday that shines into the world, spring after gray and dormant winter, hope where there’s been darkness. The energy of Resurrection light that moves me forward onto a lighter path.

My hope for you all is that you feel that light in your life that brings hope for all your tomorrows.

In the Love and Light that is Easter,

Connie