Easter Memories

I don't know why, but I seem to have more early memories about Easter then Christmas.

It started on Palm Sunday for our family. We went to a traditional church and there was always a choir in blue or red robes singing hosannas from a platform above the congregation. The anthems and sermons depicted Jesus' triumphant entry into Jerusalem and then as we left the church we were given palms to bring home with us to remind us during the week, that this week was special. It was the week leading up to something that was terrible and yet glorious. I remember putting those palm branches, (we always tried to get at least a couple as we left the church) on the wall above my tufted headboard or sometimes my sister and I would make bookmarks with them.

It was the one time of the year that my mom took my sister and I clothes shopping. I used to think that was the only time I got clothes but that couldn't have been true because I have seen myself in a winter coat. But at Easter time, she took us with her to the department store. We each got a new dress, white leather shoes, white socks, white gloves, a purse, and a hat. Yes, every year we would have a hat to wear to church on Easter. They were very cute but eventually the hats were forsaken.

My dad's parents were the organist and choir director in a Methodist church in Mount Vernon. They usually had a special service on Good Friday which we would often attend. Many times my dad would be coerced into "helping' the tenor section for that service. Sometimes he would sing next to a Jewish cantor who was "hired" to complement the choir or do a special solo. Funny! Sometimes they did a whole cantata for that service and the vocal depiction of the events leading up to Easter was always stirring.

We did dye eggs. Paas was operational back in the 40's too, and the same little wire holder hasn't change a bit, although there were only five basic colors. The eggs were boiled and then colored and put in baskets with green "grass". Easter morning we would get our baskets and race around the house looking in all the traditional places that my dad hid the eggs and he was always thinking up new spots to trick us.

We would have a breakfast of hot crossed buns and then off to church in our Easter finery. Easter was beautiful. Every year, Christ the Lord is Risen Today, was gloriously sung at the top of our lungs as the choir, which my dad was a part, marched down the center isle. "He Is Risen" was proclaimed from the pulpit, and we sat down to more inspiring music and the glorious gospel.

Then off to my maternal grandmothers house in Larchmont to a large contingent of family and roast lamb and trimmings and always a big bowl of licorice jelly beans. And sitting around the table we listened to the adults discuss everything from politics, to their jobs, to family happenings in Norway, to my grandmothers raspberry patch. After we were dismissed from the table my sister and I would wander up to the attic to look through old trunks and investigate all the interesting artifacts casually tossed up into the dark recesses of that space.

And finally my mom would call and we would head home. Easter had come and gone. It was spring and a new feeling of freshness and life and hope filled our lives. And somehow as we continued on in search of our Savior we found him. In a little church attended mostly by young Norwegian families, in the middle of a very liberal and wealthy community. He found my parents first and then each one of their daughters was lead softly and gently to their Savior.

And many Easters have come and gone, each with it's own special memories. This year we celebrated all together, our whole family (the best) plus grandma and uncle Don and two very special friends. And someday we will all be together, restored, renewed and worshiping in His very presence. And that will be glorious!