SUNDAY THOUGHTS: HAPPY EASTER

I can't help but think of Mommy today. 

I'm so grateful that she believed in and loved God, and shared her faith with us. 

Frankly, I don't know what I would do without the Lord.

Mommy was the holiday bunny. She would have spend the weekend cleaning, cooking (maybe some Cornish game hens), shopping, sewing, coloring eggs, straightening and pin-curling her hair--and maybe even correcting papers she'd brought home from school. 

I can just see her in a choir, head lifted, singing, and knowing all of the words to every Easter hymn.

The weeks leading up to Easter were busy ones. 

I remember those treasured days off from school that seemed to fly by so fast. 

There were Easter plays and recitations, passages of scripture to learn, baskets, lilies, chocolate bunnies, dyed-eggs, jelly beans, new white shoes, new dresses, new coats, ribbons, watching "The Ten Commandments", early church service, rejoicing, singing, preaching, and more singing. 

My sister and I could wear our hair "out". (Mommy would wash, dry, straighten and pin curl our hair, too.)

There would be more white, pastel colors, frilly dresses, fancy suits, and big, "say something" hats than you'd ever seen, and more people at church, too. Even as a child, I thought people should at least get credit for having a mind to be at church on such a special day. 

The question was, would the regulars have anything remotely Christ-like to say, or would they be sarcastic, judgmental and unkind? 

Would they be jerks, and give visitors yet another reason why their visits to church were few and far between?

The songs! The glorious songs!

"Christ the Lord is risen to-daaaay. Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-le-ey-lu-oo--yah..." 

I can just see Mommy, Irene Rogers, Thelma Morgan, Emma Davis, Irene Browner, Thelma Allen-Lucky, Viola Richardson, and Annie Mae Richbow smiling; wearing their white surplices; I can hear them singing, "You ask me how I know he lives, He Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiives, withiiiiin my heart..."
I never knew quite how long to hold that note.

On Easter Sunday, there was one dramatic hymn after another...That red or green hymnbook never DID go back in the rack behind the pew...."Up from the grave he arose..." 

That was my favorite part of that one.

After church, there would be a big, Thanksgiving-like meal, brief, long-distance phone calls to relatives, and finally, permission to raid the Easter baskets. 

I can still hear the sound of that colored cellophane rattling. 

I think my love for dark chocolate must have begun on an Easter Sunday.

The days leading up to Easter Sunday were full of anticipation, but a whole lot of work for Jesus and Mommy.

The photo is from Easter Sunday, 1972. 

Mommy was busier than usual, and Daddy was given the job of shoe-shopping. 

As you can see, he allowed my big sister and me to get what we wanted when we went to shop at the Eastover Shopping Center's J.C. Penney. 

He bought our first high heels. 

It was a very happy day for me. 

There would be no more ugly, orthopedic, gun-bolt looking brogans for me for the rest of my life. Heels made my feet look smaller, and me appear taller. Those chunky heels were the reason for my smile--skinny legs and all. I didn't care if my new hairdo, dress, or those flowers were in the shot. "Daddy, can you see my shoes?"

Mommy fussed and shook her head when she saw them. She said something about broken ankles and legs, and us being too young. "I can just see you all now, tipping up the aisle!" 

She told my father he should have known better, but he wasn't one to be in any store for extended periods of time, except the grocery store. 

He'd asked the salesman to measure our feet, and then told us to "Look and see what you want....Get what you want...You like that?" 

No one was more shocked that my sister and me when we made our choices, handed them to my father, and he handed them to the salesman to see if our sizes were in stock. 

When the salesman walked through those curtains with two boxes, we were positively giddy. You couldn't have found two more ecstatic girls as we walked that J.C. Penney shoe department carpet. 

I think we both knew the whole experience would have gone an entirely different way if Mommy had been there.

When we got home and opened the boxes, Mommy was shocked, but she saw how happy we were, shook her head, and let us keep the shoes. 

She totally understood. She liked shoes, too. 

She also understood the pain.

Jesus' feet hurt, too, one dreadful day, and sometimes, when wearing my now beloved high heels, it seems like I'm on a sick mission to feel his agony.

Happy Resurrection Sunday.
Love won...: )