Easter Memories in a Country Church
My earliest Easter memories are not of egg hunts or chocolate bunnies, although I have those memories too. The first Easter Sunday that I clearly remember was when I was 7 years old. We woke up early and drove to the tiny farming town where my paternal grandparents lived. It was an exciting morning because we were having a “Sunrise Service” outside at the location of the new church building. For months there had been community work days to begin constructing the new church. I remember being there are carrying one cinder block at a time from the pile to the men who were building. My dad and others were pushing wheelbarrows full of bricks. My brother carried two or three at a time. He and I got frequent breaks when my grandma would pour us homemade lemonade and give us cookies. We would sit in the shade of these huge oak trees and watch the outline of the walls slowly take shape on the big concrete slab. It seemed huge to us as we walked around the inside of that low outline; what ...