Easter Memories

Singing with the Angels
My mother died during the Easter season.

A couple of weeks ago marked the 19th anniversary of her death. Another 1 and 9 to go with the date—March 19, 1991. (I was glad when that year was over so I wouldn’t have to keep seeing all those nines and ones.)

At the time of her death, I wondered if it would forever cast a shadow over Easter for me. I’ve found instead that it has only made Easter more precious. Mother had been practicing Easter music with the small choir (eight people) at her little church in northern Arkansas. At her funeral the group sang one of the songs she had been practicing with them. Melancholy, yes, but only from an earthly perspective. I couldn’t be sad for her. She sang with the angels that year—and every Easter since.

Golden Cross
The only place on earth I have attended a true sunrise service was the mission center where we worked in South America. We gathered every year at six in the morning on the highest hill at the center, overlooking a long lake. With our blankets spread on the ground, we sang Easter songs and listened a brief devotional message.

One year an amazing thing happened. A breeze ruffled a narrow horizontal strip across the far end of the lake. We didn’t notice it particularly until the sun slipped up above the horizon at that far end. The next moment, a golden glow spread vertically down the length of the lake toward us—and the ruffled cross strip turned gold as well.

Can you see it—the golden cross on the lake … on Easter morning?

Resurrection—and Guns
Easter morning in 1981was memorable in a different way. In January subversives had taken one member of our group captive and a few weeks later executed him. Our center was still under guard by the country’s military, and we were told it would not be safe for us to meet on the hill. Instead, we gathered at a central location, with homes and trees around us and only a small piece of the lake visible. Soldiers and a couple of machine guns were in clear sight. That year we sang with extra gusto, “Up from the grave He arose, with a mighty triumph o’er His foes!”

Grandmother’s Birthday
A footnote to my mother’s death during the Easter season is that she died on her grandmother’s birthday. This was the grandmother for whom she was named and whose name my mother later gave to me. Esther Sophronia Porter (later Stauffer) was born March 19, 1868, and died six years before I was born. I like to think of her welcoming Mother that Easter season in 1991—and then the two of them singing together with the angels.

What memorable Easters have you experienced?

Real Easter Sunrise Services

In the tropics, the sun comes up around six o’clock every morning. On Easter mornings, our whole family, and most of the other families at our mission center, would rise and dress in everyday clothes. Then we would mount our motorcycles (the only means of personal transportation we had) and set out on the gravel roads, up and down small hills, a mile or so across the center. The highest hill was our destination.

From the top of the hill we could see the lake—a long lake with palm trees all around. The hill was at one end of the lake, and the sun came up at the other end. There we spread blankets and sat on them while we sang, prayed, and listened to a brief meditation on the Resurrection. While we were doing that, the sun would slip into view at the other end of the lake. One year, with the help of a narrow crosswind, the sun was reflected in a huge golden cross the length of the lake.

Now that is an Easter sunrise service.

Where I am this morning, it is 36 degrees outside and dark. I probably won’t feel like it’s Easter until I get to church, but that’s okay. The evidence and assurance of the Resurrection are still true and still a lynchpin of my life.

One of the last years we were there, we didn’t get to have our sunrise service on the hill. Subversives had kidnapped one of our coworkers in January and executed him a few weeks before Easter. Our center was under guard by the country’s military, and they deemed the hill too far out and insecure. So we met close in with soldiers around and a machine gun in plain view. But it was still Easter, and no amount of threat from the outside could shake the faith in our hearts.