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 would become the sanctuary, classrooms, kitchen, bathrooms, and offices. The comparison was extreme.  At the time that this building project was taking place, we were meeting in what was now referred to as the “old” church.  That building was where I first went to church, and I remember it still with great affection.

It was a one-room building with a stone foundation. It was built in 1857 when the town was growing as people came west in search of gold. I remember the wood plank floors that were worn and uneven. They creaked as you walked across them and I remember being there occasionally with my grandpa on a Saturday while he did repairs and got things ready for church the next day. I remember him hammering in the nail heads that were beginning to stick up and catch on peoples’ shoes or replacing boards in the walkway to the bathroom. The bathroom was actually an outhouse a short walk from the back of the church. There was a boardwalk so that you didn’t get muddy in the winter. I remember the outhouse door, with the classic crescent moon cut out and a simple metal latch on the inside. I remember I always checked for spiders under the seat before I sat down. I also remember how cold it was in the winter!  The church was heated by an old pot-bellied iron stove. They would start the fire early in the morning and load it up with wood to warm up the room. I remember thinking how long the pipe was to go all the way up to the roof. My grandpa had to be on the roof once to fix where the stove pipe came out and I remember my grandma standing on the ground calling up to him to be careful. He checked the bell tower too.  That was also a favorite part of the church for all of us kids. The adults pulled the rope to ring the big bell. We loved the sound of that bell.

This little white country church on the grassy hillside, with tall windows, a bell tower, and an outhouse in the back. This was where my grandparents first took me to church. I’m sure I attended Easter services in that building, but the first one I remember was in the new building.  It was 1981 and the exterior walls were nearly completed. There was no roof and nothing was completed on the inside. But months of hard work had made this partial structure and as a church, we were celebrating it. The sunrise service took place outside on the hill, it was short and I just remember being cold and tired. The best part came next. More people came and they set up picnic tables and camp stoves. We had breakfast together before it was time for the actual Easter Sunday Service to begin. That service was held in the new church. We sat in folding chairs, right where the rows would be when it was completed. The pastor stood where the stage would be. I remember sitting there under the sun, in a church with no roof, thinking of how I had carried some of those bricks. I remember the feeling of knowing that my grandpa and my dad had helped build those walls and would soon help with the roof.

I understood that Easter was about Jesus being raised from the dead. I didn’t “believe” in the Easter bunny, but I did enjoy hunting for Easter eggs and eating candy. I loved baby bunnies and fluffy little chicks, but those weren’t so much about Easter for me. I played with baby bunnies, chicks, lambs, and goats all the time at my grandparents’ house. I understood the difference between the spiritual part of Easter and the secular part. I have lots of wonderful memories of both kinds of celebrations. They were family times full of joy and love. Above all, I remember learning as a young girl that Easter was about love, hope, and a celebration of NEW BEGINNINGS! 

16 years after that Easter Sunday service I was married in that church. Of course, the building had a roof then! I remembered my grandpa that day and the memories of my childhood. My other three grandparents were there in the church on my wedding day. I remember thinking of how, as a little girl, I had helped carry some of those many bricks that built this little country church.

This year I’m thinking of new beginnings and how the foundations of memories and the love they contain, continue to contribute to the building of new things in our life now.