Sunrise

We started the jeep as the sun came up

and watched the sun rise three more times 

as we moved in and out of hill shadows.

The last sunrise was at Mount Joy,

at Denny’s parents' grave.

Denny’s major childhood Easter memory

is hearing his dad enthusiastically singing 

“Up From the Grave He Arose!”

and he wanted to spend Easter morning with Walt.

My own childhood memories of Easter 

involve Norman Rockwellian tables 

with tulip centerpieces at Grandma Maud’s House 

containing ham, 

scalloped potatoes,

and sour cherry pie,
which I miss immensely,
and also memories of wearing pinchy shoes

and uncomfortable slips, 

which I don’t miss at all.

One the way home from the graveyard

Denny and I recalled other Easter memories—

Sunrise singing with One Way Street 

on the ski slope in Treasure Lake.

A trip to Houghton 

when we had to pull over quickly for Luke, 

who had been sitting in the back seat 

eating every bit of chocolate from his basket.

Singing in a thatched church 

in a cornfield in Tanzania 

to the accompaniment of swishing feet, 

ululations, 

and percussion on a plastic bucket.

In Oxford’s University Church 

where one man’s “Whoopee!”

echoed in the cathedral.

To the list of memorable Easters,

we can now add 2020.

In social isolation, 

we Zoomed Sunday school,

sang duets online,

and listened to N.T. Wright’s sermon from 2019.

He was talking about some pivotal moments in history:

the Enlightenment in France,

the founding of America.

I pondered our present situation 

and wondered if the future will see 

this time as a pivotal point in finances, 

in government.

But nothing, NOTHING is as pivotal as Easter morning.

The stone was rolled away.

The veil was ripped from top to bottom.

Past and future both were fulfilled 

in one move from death to life.

The world is weirdly, wildly different right now, 

but each day the sun still rises, thankfully 

and, 

even more thankfully, 

the Son has risen,

is risen.

Indeed.

Already But Not Yet

It's 1:35 on Easter Sunday
and I am sitting on the front steps,
waiting.
Den and I are all ready for Easter
but Paul's family
and the Toms
and Shelby and her sister and friends
are not yet here.

The pysanky eggs
from childhoods past are on display.
Den has hidden the eggs for the girls' egg hunt.

The table is set with Grandma Maud's silver
and decorated with daffodils,
rabbits,
frog candlesticks,
Grandma's singing children,
and "Alleluia" written in Scrabble tiles.

I think of Maud every Easter
when I decorate the table,
when I serve sweet potatoes and beets,
when I sing a loud alto in church.
I am not the woman she was, however.
She would have ironed the tablecloth,
polished the silver,
waited for the rolls to rise before she baked them,
made homemade stuffing
and gravy from scratch.
She would have dug dandelion greens
to serve with hot bacon dressing.
She would have stuffed the celery
with three kinds of cheese.
I am more like Maud's older sister, Thelma.
Thelma served culinary disasters
and said, "That's the way I wanted it."
Thelma would have understood my hard-as-a-bullet rolls
and why I decided to leave the celery unstuffed
and unserved.
I don't call it lazy.
I call it enjoying the day.

For years,
Den and his dad went to sunrise services together
so Den misses Walt on Easter Sundays.
This morning
for the first time
we visited Mount Joy Methodist
because Walt is buried there
with four generations of Shaffners.
As we sang "He Lives"
we could look out the left side windows
and see the rising sun hitting the hillside
and we could look out the right side windows
and see Den's dad's gravestone
...and our own.
We may meet the Lord in the air at that very spot.
Death has been defeated!
Alleluia!

Now it is 10:30.
The third load is in the dishwasher.
It has been a great day
full of family
and old and new friends
and no one needed a bandaid.
We hunted for eggs
and ate outside
(new dish: black olives stuffed with m&ms)

then ate inside
(new dish: Paula Deen's pineapple cheddar casserole)
then played outside in the warm sunshine.
The girls rode Anna's razor tricycle,
then washed the driveway
and my car
while the grownups rode Anna's razor tricycle.

While some people took a walk
Anna wanted to have another egg hunt
and she volunteered to hide the eggs.
I refilled each 
with the traditional one m&m
and gave them to her.
Several minutes later
I accompanied two year old Lily Toms
on her search for eggs
and noticed that quite a few were now empty.
"Anna," I said,
"Why are some of the eggs empty?"
She got a little chocolaty grin on her face
and said,
"I wanted to remind Lily about the empty tomb.
It IS Easter, you know...."

Yes, it is.
We live in the "already, but not yet."
Death has already been defeated
and so we celebrate Easter,
but we have not yet experienced the final celebration.
We had better be prepared to be unprepared.