Grandma Muir’s birthday often fell near Easter and this year she would have celebrated on Easter Monday. For the holiday her sister, my great aunt Carrie, faithfully made kaloches, a traditional Bohemian recipe. She even typed out her recipe in her hunt-and-peck method and gave it to me. I did try making kaloches a few times, but they didn’t turn out until I used another recipe. Perhaps Carrie left out a secret ingredient?
That seems possible because Carrie, Grandma and the rest of their siblings certainly took a lot of secrets to their graves. Those secrets weren’t documented for almost one hundred years, and then only after 20 years of dogged research.
The story of those secrets is the basis of my uncoming historical novel, Secrets of the Dark Closet. I signed with a publisher this past winter and expect to spend at least part of the Easter weekend reviewing the copy before it goes to the next stage of publishing. I can hardly wait to announce in a few months that it is in print.
But back to Easter. The very word invokes memories of spring dresses being made on Mom’s treadle sewing machine, and of trying on new patent leather shoes and white gloves. The day before Easter, the house would be cleaned from ceiling to floor, as though Jesus himself would be a guest.
Before we left for church on Easter morning, a ham was readied for the oven, deviled eggs were in the fridge and, always, strawberry shortcake and real whipped cream completed the special holiday meal.
At Cottonwood Church, where family members had worshiped since the early 1900s, everyone filed in wearing spring clothes, even if they needed to wear a winter coat over the top. The service was truly a celebration of Christianity’s holiest day. Green palm fronds and white lilies decorated the simple altar, and no Easter service was complete without singing, “Christ the Lord has risen today…alleluia!”
Then and now, Easter represents something the world desperately needs: Hope that there is meaning in this life. Hope that good can triumph over evil. Hope for eternal life. The good news is that even though Jesus died on Good Friday, he rose again and he still lives. And he made the way for us to do the same.
All of creation plays out this pageant of hope, if we only pay attention. Each spring, new life is found on every prairie hillside as the grass turns green, the trees leaf out and perky flowers pop out of the earth. The birds and animals birth their young, symbolic of the new life that can be found in Christ.
We humans need rituals and special days to remind us of what is important, and so we celebrate the Resurrection each year by gathering with family and friends to celebrate in our homes and churches. Around the world, an ancient greeting will be heard on Easter Sunday: “He has risen!” with the response, “He has risen indeed!” And that really is good news.
To learn more about the resurrection of Christ, read through the gospel of John, and particularly chapter 20. Also, consider viewing the movie The Case for Christ, which was recently released.
Moving Update
I promised to give you an update about moving to a smaller home, so here it is. We moved into a very nice, albeit smaller home, on March 28. As I write, we’ve been here two weeks and two pickup loads of unpacked boxes have been hauled away. I think we will truly be settled when the books are back in the bookcase.
After all my angst about downsizing, was this a good move for us? Well, judging by the boxes still left to be unpacked, maybe we didn’t get rid of all that much stuff. And it does feel more like home every day, although sometimes I must remind myself of the verse the Lord spoke to my heart about moving on: “Let not your heart be troubled.” Yes, and trust that God has it all under control.
A childhood classmate (and veteran of many moves) advised me to take my time getting settled, but I want to get on with life. After all, my next book is about to be published and the sequel to By the Banks of Cottonwood Creek is waiting for completion.
Happy Easter! He has risen. He has risen indeed!