Looking back on the numerous Easters as a little girl, I am flooded with memories! The remembrances make me smile, but the loss of those people in my life, sometimes causes a flood of tears.
Past Easters
Like many families in the South, I too received a new Easter dress every year. Mom made sure that the four of us, the set of four as she referred to us often, always matched. I can vividly remember the yellow year and the lavender year. To be totally honest, Easters were not the only times Mom dressed us in matching outfits. There is a famous story of how she accidentally corralled five girls together at Six Flags because a random girl around our ages happened to be wearing the same shirt!
Poor Julie, the youngest, she likes to joke about how she had to wear the same outfits for years since she received the brunt of all the hand-me-downs!
At times, we had our Easter pictures made at Maloof’s, a local store in McCaysville, Georgia, but we always had our photos taken at Nana’s after church. Kids, colored eggs, and green plastic grass were everywhere.
Like for all our family get-togethers, the saw-horses and plywood from the basement was carried up onto the porch to make tables. They were quickly adorned with the most delicious variety of meats, vegetables, cornbread, biscuits, desserts, and sweet tea. In my young years, Granddaddy’s hand-squeezed lemonade in the big green Thermos cooler and cousin Kathy’s bunny cake with coconut sprinkled all over were a ritual. Most of us ate until we felt sick.
Easter Egg Hunt
A few of the men hid the eggs afterwards, while most of us hunted—disregarding any age limit. My nana and Donna’s grandmother were always among the hunters. They walked along with the littlest ones and delighted as they pointed out the eggs.
After the twelve or thirteen dozen eggs were hidden and we were out of the starting gate, we ran in every direction looking in trees, under clumps of grass, on the tops of a car tires, and in shirt pockets of the uncles. I miss Uncle James. He would yell in this boisterous tone, “I see one!” All the grandkids would flock to him, fighting to see who could retrieve the egg first! I miss the rides our uncles would take us on as we piled onto the wooden attachment behind the tractor and rode into the mountains. The games we would play in the front yard: kickball and hit the can were tons of fun. Life doesn’t get much better than the simplicity of those days.
Easters Now
This past Sunday, there were sixty-seven at the home that I still fondly refer to as Nana’s. Although she nor Granddaddy are with us anymore, we continue to carry on the traditions. A couple of the kids did not have a basket with them, but in our family, nothing gets in our way. Two light-weight canvas coolers and a circular casserole cover were used!
Beyond all the grub and giggles, we know the reason we celebrate a day called Easter. We believe that God loves us all so much that He sent His son to be born in a manger. We proclaim that He died on the cross for our sins and rose again on the third day. God desires us to choose Him as our savior and we can receive ever-lasting life.
I am thankful that God is a living God who wants a relationship with us all, and I am thankful that my grandparents and those before me chose to teach me the reason to sing.
He lives, He lives, Christ Jesus lives today.
He walks with me and talks with me
Along life’s narrow way
He lives, He lives, Salvation to impart
You ask me how I know He lives?
He lives within my heart!
Rain, rain go away. Come again another day. We all sang that familiar verse as a child. If you currently live in the South, you may be singing this song as an adult. It has rained day after day. When the rain finally ceased briefly and the sun came out, social media was flooded with comments about the wonderful sunshine.
We all know that plants need both the sun and the rain to grow. As children of God, we need both the struggles and the joys to grow in Him. When you feel you are walking in the rains of life, say a prayer of thanks. For Romans 5:3-4 states, “No only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope.”
Though I am sure that I did many of those fun things when I was very young, I remember one that brought me great joy! When I was around eight or nine, living in a small town our out-to-eat choices and shopping choices were a little limited. We often drove to Cleveland, TN for outings. If we were there for the day, our trip usually included a light lunch and a stop by Dunkin’ Donuts. It was popular in those days to have a “take-a-number machine” on the wall. I would try to grab that number before any of my sisters. Why I considered that fun, I have no idea, but it brought me some sort of pleasure to have the ticket in my hand and wait for them to call our number.
One recent morning Karla sent me a picture of her dog Teagan. At first glance I smiled and thought, 
A friend of my mine recently posted about a homeless man, woman, and their dog. If you live in Rome, you have seen them. I think we all have. For they travel all over Rome with their brown dog and their wagon. The man is always pulling their belongings while
