Easter Tidings

“Nothing like Easter Sunday to bring out the faithful,” my grandmother observed sourly as she winced her way up the church steps of the Baptist church, “Warms your heart, don't it, Jan.”

My mother, a devoted Christmas/Easter christian, glared at her but Nana pretended not to see and my daddy pretended not to hear. He took both their elbows and steered them firmly inside while we trailed along after. It was, as predicted, standing room only and being an uncommonly warm morning for April, the sanctuary reeked of lilies and too many kinds of perfume. There was not enough space for the six of us in one pew so my daddy wisely separated my mother and grandmother and split the three of us children between them. Despite the crowd, the service started on time with all three choirs singing the processional loud enough to make the old stone walls tremble. I was, as usual, swept away when we stood for “Christ the Lord Is Risen Today”.

Baptisms were a traditional part of every Easter service so there was no sermon. Instead, we witnessed a solemn parade of white gowned church members accept Jesus Christ as Their Personal Savior before being lowered into the warm water and emerging sin-free, at least for a time. Later I would come to think that 12 is far too young and tender an age to be making, never mind understanding, such vows but at the time I still had hope and determination for my own salvation. I hadn't been tested then and I wanted very badly to believe.

We sang another hymn while the minister dried off and dressed and then he blessed us and the choir launched into “The Hallelujah Chorus”.   Even my world weary grandmother seemed moved by the music and a half century later, I still know every note of the soprano part just as I was taught and still get goosebumps when I hear it.

“World'd be a better place with more music and less preachin',” she remarked to the pastor as we passed.

“Amen, dear lady,” he smiled and patted her hand, “Amen.”