From the time I understood that “dressing up” meant a special occasion, I have loved Easter. There was so much more for me to learn and understand about Easter, but as a child it meant a new Sunday outfit. That ensemble would be complete with a new dress, white gloves, a Sunday straw hat and new white shoes. I still remember the itch and scratch of the petticoats that were essential to giving my dress that needed fullness and the luxury of special Sunday socks that were bordered in lace.

If pride ever walked into church with an adolescent, it accompanied me! I would learn a lot more about pride and how God hates it, but on those first Easter Sundays I walked into the Sunday School assembly with a Queen of Sheba attitude and assurance. Showing off my new outfit to the church family made the discomfort of my petticoats fade into the trivial.

Then there were the Easter baskets waiting for us at home after the church service. Our Easter bunny didn’t try to compete with Santa, but he did bring us baskets of candy that weren’t normal fare for me and my siblings, and toys that would fit in those baskets. The delight of chomping on chocolate bunny ears and savoring the sugary sweetness of jelly beans could only be measured by a child.  

Before dressing for church, we could sort through our baskets, but jelly beans and white gloves don’t mix. We understood that the candy treats must follow the Easter celebration at church.

After all the gusto I could pour into “Christ Arose,” our pastor would have the joy to share the unparalleled victory of our risen Savior conquering death. I didn’t fully understand the significance of that victory, but my young heart still celebrated the joy of Easter.

With stomachs filled with our bountiful Easter lunch, it was time for the Easter egg hunt. Sunday clothes were exchanged for play clothes and the generous collection of eggs that we had dyed the night before was ready for our favorite Easter game. I would read much later about the pagan practices of hiding eggs and how they had little to do with the resurrection, but for my childhood, it was an added joy to Easter.

The soft, green grass that spring ushers in would become dotted with glimpses of colored eggs that my parents would hide. The rush to find the most eggs was a true sibling race. By the time we had worn the fun out of the egg hunts, those works of art looked more like pieces of mosaic art. Deviled eggs would be on Monday’s menu.

Time has shifted me to adult years and Easter celebrations with grandchildren and great-grandchildren. I now understand so much more about Easter and its significance. Funerals are compelling instructors. Life and its joys are like a vapor, but because of Christ’s resurrection, the victory we share with Jesus is eternal! 

Camille Anding, The Daily Leader, P. O. Box 551, Brookhaven, MS 39602.