The Best Easter of All
By Marta Felber

This was the Easter I had waited for. Every year, no matter how much I pestered, they held to their guns that I was not old enough. "Wait until you are six," the grown-ups would repeat. Maybe they connected it with my going to first grade. But surely I didn’t have to know how to read at dawn! I hadn’t taken much interest in making my usual nest out of grass and twigs for the Easter Bunny. Colored eggs and candy on Easter morning were for babies! This year my mind was already focused on the Sunrise Service I would attend with my family, at the cemetery in Old Salem.

My mother had grown up in the Moravian Church. One day she had taken me to see their very old cemetery. It was huge! Every stone was the same size and flat on the ground. I thought this was strange. My mother was used to my constant questions. "It’s because all of us are equal in death," she answered. That did make sense to me. She recounted how she had come most Easter mornings since she was a child, with thousands and thousands of others, for the Sunrise Service. She explained that every grave would be decorated. At midnight workers had walked through and placed a flower or palm branch on each grave that remained bare. The Moravians love joyful music. Bands would be in place all around the city. They would take turns playing, from four until five o’clock on Easter morning. She described how the service would begin. All this made it harder for me to wait for my time to go!

They promised to wake me at four o’clock, but there was no need. I bolted out of bed with the first sounds from downstairs. There had been a big discussion the night before about my clothes. I insisted on wearing my new Easter dress. They reminded me that it would be cold that early, and I would have to wear a coat. But, I had won that battle! I slipped on the pink taffeta dress with ruffles. My black patent leather shoes had one white button on the strap. They were new, but didn’t even hurt my feet. I climbed up on a stool to look in the dresser mirror. Wow, did I look beautiful!

I was the first one in the car. It seemed to take forever to get there. And then we had to find a place for the car and walk miles. I heard band music in the distance. Then it stopped. There were people crowding all around. I couldn’t see a thing! Daddy held my hand and drew me close to him so I wouldn’t get squashed. He whispered in my ear that he would hold me up when the time came. I saw just a little light. Daddy lifted me up. Everyone got still. Not a sound - anywhere. I knew what we were waiting for. There! The first rays of the sun. The Bishop’s deep voice thundered, "The Lord is risen!" In response, I shouted, with all the thousands, but louder than anyone else, "The Lord is risen indeed!" I knew then why I had come.

Marta's Notes to You:

Sit quietly and think back to a moving experience in your early life. Weave it into a story. Share it with someone you love. Ask them to tell you one from their childhood. Then hold hands, and squeeze!

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