Journey to the Cross
My first clear memory of Easter is standing next to my Grandpa Frank in the little Presbyterian church he and Grandma Floy attended. I wore a new scratchy lavender dress and black patent leather shoes with fresh white anklets. The outfit was topped off with a white and lavender bonnet held on with triangular shaped pointy things.
We sat quietly and listened to the Easter sermon which was frequently interspersed with traditional Easter songs. Our programs gave us the page number for each hymn in the hymnal so we were prepared. When the minister lifted his hands and the choir stood, we rose to our feet and sang every verse. I loved it. Grandpa only had a range of a couple of notes but what he lacked in musical ability he made up for in volume and enthusiasm. At the end of the service Grandpa opened the hymnal for the final hymn. He reached down and took my hand as the organ played the opening chords to "Christ the Lord is Risen Today." Grandpa squeezed my hand, stood up a bit straighter and bellowed out the magnificent words. The sanctuary vibrated with every "Allelulia!"
I didn't understand Christ and the cross and the significance of Easter back then but my little heart was stirred. It took another thirty years and many more "stirrings"' before Jesus and the cross became a reality to me. In October, 1984, I took Jesus' hand and stepped from darkness into light. My Savior had been placing people and circumstances in my path all those years to light the way on my journey to the cross and His gift of salvation. Looking back, I believe hearing Grandpa singing that Easter morning was my first step.
Wherever you are on your journey, I pray you have a blessed Easter.