Yesterday was Easter Sunday. Our church was filled to the brim with people of all ages. Children and adults were decked out in their Spring finery, on a glorious sun-filled morning. I don't think I have ever seen so many babies in one place! The Sanctuary was decorated with lilies, tulips, palms and daffodils. The music from the choir and the congregation was uplifting and thrilling.
But, Easter was different this year. The lead-up to this day of resurrection and joy was missing something really important.
Our week before Easter included coloring eggs, as usual. We attended Wednesday choir practice, Maundy Thursday Services and Good Friday Church. Everything was normal and regular. But, we skipped Palm Sunday.
On Palm Sunday, the folks in our town woke up to a huge snow storm. The streets were covered and it was too dangerous to do much traveling. Fortunately, we were warned that the storm was coming, so many (over 500) city and rural churches cancelled services, as early as Saturday morning. We all ended up having to dig or be dug out, in order to go anywhere!
Well, I like to think that I am not a slave to tradition and routine, but I guess that I am. I missed the parading of the palms and the whole idea of Jesus' triumphant arrival in Jerusalem. The events of the past week were less dramatic to me, because we skipped Palm Sunday. Something was missing.
Dear Risen Lord: We have heard the story of Easter many, many times. The journey of Easter Week renews our faith and revitalizes our spirit. Thank you for coming to save us from our sins and sillyness. We glorify your name.
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