One Easter Sunday…

I’ve always loved Easter Sunday, almost as much as Palm Sunday, my all-time favorite thanks to the palm branch procession. But back to Easter. In my family, church was never missed. I loved the wonderful hymns like “Christ the Lord is Risen Today,” the Easter lilies, the pastors’ white robes and the newly-changed white altar coverings, the candles, the cross being carried in, and robed choirs and the trumpets and all the other children in their Easter best. I would usually get a new Easter dress, and for sure I would wear yellow or pink and my best white shoes – no matter that it was before Memorial Day. Early in the morning, we had our in-house Easter egg hunt. A special meal of ham and scalloped potatoes and deviled eggs and carrot cake and more was ready after church. I think I took all of that for granted. Now I know that not all children had those traditions. Of course I should have appreciated my parents more than I did before they passed on.

But yesterday, March 31, 2024, I had another special Easter Sunday. I had not planned to even be at home or to worship at my home church. We had a Colorado week away planned and no family gathering to rush home to. I thought maybe we would be in Nebraska still, worshipping in some random church and eating in a Cracker Barrel or something. I knew I wasn’t going to be making any meal and there were no children at home for me to hide eggs from. But an old friend had invited us to share Easter lunch with them. How nice. Wow. If we got home on Saturday evening from our Colorado trip, we could worship at Grace and have lunch with our friends. So we did.

I wish I had photos from church at Grace, but just being there with several other families in the balcony listening to the hymns, hearing our Iowa Annual Conference United Methodist Bishop Kennetha Bigham-Tsai preach was a special blessing. And our choir and bells and our children who decorated a plain cross with flowers, and then to have it lifted high – very high almost to the ceiling of the huge Grace sanctuary – it was mystical, even as a few flowers fell from the cross. Later, the large congregation filed up front in four lines to be served communion. How good it was to see so many at Grace again. To see the sunlight streaming through the western red window. From lament to hope, a community of love filled that huge worship space once again. Would that each Sunday could be that filled, that joyful. Coffee afterward in the basement meant connecting with church friends. All of this before driving to our friends’ home twenty-five minutes away.

The table was set. They had La Mie pastries cut into small pieces.

Two egg casseroles and a bright fruit salad made our table cheerful and inviting. Their high school daughter said grace and we enjoyed conversation and laughter and delicious food. And homemade chocolate cookies. And coffee. I realized how very fortunate I was to have friends who would make room for me at their table. How often do I do the same for others? We could have declined and enjoyed another day of our “getaway.” And yet how much better was this Easter, the Easter that was waiting for us all along at home. May you have adventures, wonderful worship wherever you go, and many shared tables in your life. I will try to be more grateful for what I have and be more willing to invite others to my humble table, knowing that the invitation and the sharing is what it is all about.