Easter Sunday

I always think of Easter as the beginning of life.

On this day we begin again, our lives, and think about what we can do with them. Tomorrow is Easter Sunday and it brings back memories of Easter when I was a child and when I was a young adult. Whether Gay and I were going to the little country church with our neighbors or waking up to find the Easter Bunny had come, Easter was a special time of the year.

 

I remember the cellophane covered Easter baskets beside my bed when I awoke. But I remember most the stuffed rabbits my sister and I received. One year my rabbit was really big and with the prettiest long white satin ears. Well, they were white on the inside and pink and furry on the outside. I kept that rabbit so long I took it to college with me and slept with it. It helped when I was miserable with homesickness.

 

Recently I found in my collection of VHS tapes, one made by my dear brother, Ray. He had recorded family gatherings for several years. At least two or three were of my nieces and nephews and their children hunting for Easter Eggs on the big front lawn in front of my parents' home. The Easter Egg hunt there became a tradition that has lasted for fifty years, I guess. I don't know if it goes on today, but I imagine it does.

Three precious little girls in Easter dresses

 



Mother, in her apron, stood on the front porch and watched the kids hunt eggs. Barry and his brother, Richard, stand between my brothers Hal and Rex. Looking cute in fancy overalls is Yvonne, Hal's wife.

All the little ones were dressed in their finest clothes. The girls had frilly dresses and the boys wore little suits and ties. How cute they were as they carried baskets bigger than they were while mothers tried to help them see the eggs hidden in plain sight. On Ray's recording, the third generation of Council kids repeated the actions of their mothers and fathers. But in these films Mother was not standing on the front porch watching as she had done back in the sixties. She was either sick or gone by the time these recordings were made.

 

Barry and I sang in the choir down in Albany and then in Hayesville Presbyterian here in the mountains. The hymns for Easter were joyful and uplifting. I can't explain that feeling, but I found myself smiling when I sang and listened to the voices around me. As Joe Perrone, Jr  says in his post this week about music, it brings back memories and takes us back to places and times we will never forget.

 

Hayesville Presbyterian Church in Hayesville, NC where I spent many happy hours
with good friends

 

I don't go to church on Easter anymore because of the flowers, the perfume and fragrances that would trigger an asthma attack or send me into a brain fog such as I suffered early this week. For four days I was in bed or on the couch, hardly strong enough to make meals for myself and feed Lexie. This was a result of sitting in a room with over twenty  people for four hours even as I enjoyed being there. All it takes is a small exposure to a chemical fragrance to make me ill. I have heard that on a Sunday morning, a church has more air pollution than any other place in America. There are very few progressive enough to ask congregations to refrain from wearing scented products to church. But in some countries and in some areas of the United States, this is done.

 

I learned from a good friend who is responsible for flowers in her church that she pulls the stamens out of all the lilies before putting them out. The priest was allergic to them, so that is how they eliminated the problem for him.

 

I will not go to church tomorrow, but I have been invited by a dear friend to have lunch with her. I will certainly enjoy that. Today another special friend and neighbor brought me some of her delicious chicken noodle soup and fresh baked banana bread. I'd say my weekend is going well.

 

If you are one who prays, please remember my friends, Ginny and Rob, who face surgery in the coming days. They are very dear to me.

 

Hope your Easter is happy and you get lots of chocolate bunnies in your basket.

 

 

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