We 'Stand All Amazed' for Easter

When I think back on the many Easters I've experienced, one in particular stands out in my mind. I see myself inside the rock church at the corner of Lagoon Lane and Main Street in Farmington. It is 1950, and I am 11 years old, wearing a simple but well-made new Easter dress. My mother had given up hours of sleep to create it, as well as making one for my two sisters. I am especially thrilled because I was able to get new Sunday shoes from the Montgomery Ward Catalog. They aren't very comfortable, but they sure are pretty. Another girl and I are on the program for the Easter service singing a duet. The song is "I Stand All Amazed."

This particular Easter stands out to me because as I stood singing that song, the words began to have meaning for the first time. It was as if 1I had an epiphany, a sure knowledge that after this moment, things would change. Some changes would be good, some would be for MY good and there would be those I wouldn't like. But I knew, right then, standing there singing, that it was up to me. If I would chose to stay close to listen to the Spirit, life would turn out all right.

I was suspended in a time of innocence before that song and thrown into reality after. I had been a child, and now it was time to grow up and make choices and live my life.

It was after this that my grandpa died. He was a grandpa who lived up the street from us and came to visit every day. He bought me my first bicycle. He took me for ice cream. He loved me. It was my first experience with the reality of death.

My father died many years later, in April of 2000. It was an even sadder time for me. The hardest part was the guilt because death is so final. Immediately, I thought, "Why didn't I do this and why didn't I do that?" knowing full well that Dad wouldn't want me to do anything I had done differently. He loved me, and he was always proud of my life and my accomplishments.

At the funeral, his face was so paste-like. Without a spirit, we really are clay after all.

After the family dinner, we drove past the cemetery. The casket was now in the ground.

Dust to dust.

My dad died not rich in worldly goods, but rich in love and service.

He was 80 years old, and there were at least 400 people at his funeral. I hope I have even half that number when I die.