Food for Thought at Easter

Thought I would write about something else today, but tomorrow is Easter.

My father was the Sunday School teacher for the high school students when I was young. He said if he had some guys, the girls would come, and they did. And so, we had the first Easter sunrise breakfast. The kids had to go to the Sunrise service, then come to our house for breakfast.

It wasn't just any breakfast. Mother borrowed linens and china and silverware from all over town. We were poor, but Dad got florist centerpieces and ordered mouth-watering Danish. We decorated the tables on either side of the flowers with pastel marshmallow eggs (the only candy I was allowed at Easter and I still like them).We put out bowls of applesauce. Dad had Canadian bacon ready to heat, and he and Mom cracked the farm (our farm) fresh eggs into a big bowl the night before to make scrambled eggs. They made cocoa. Cloth napkins. Good china. Good linens. And the kids came.

About 1 dozen that first year, which was fine, because our house was small. The required Easter finery was there--girls in their new Easter dresses, boys in their suits. The "Bunny Hop" had just come into being. My parents played the song while the teens made a Conga line--Da-da-da-da-da, da da da, da-da-da-da-da, bump, bump, bump. Kick right two times. Kick left two times. Jump back one step. Jump forward three times. The teens were laughing and having fun. Some had never been to a breakfast meal with linens and flowers and good food, and none of them had experienced it just for them.

My folks got a photographer to take a picture. Someone came out every year to take the picture. My folks always had it published in the newspaper. I bet a lot of those kids still have that old newsprint somewhere.

Then my father expected them to go to Sunday School and church. And they did.

My senior year in high school, they were still doing Easter breakfast. By then they needed help. Five other couples showed up. It was still fine linens, good china, and cut flowers. Same menu. There were 85 kids. I still have that photograph someplace.

So Easter, risen again, and breakfast are all tied together for me. Tomorrow, I will get up at 5:30 a.m. to be at Sunrise service, even if it is a shuddering 32 degrees. Then partake of Easter breakfast in the church, where my friend Blake oversees for the last time before going to Oregon. Many years ago, my husband and I revived the Easter breakfast tradition, downsized, in our church with pretty paper tablecloths and plates. But we started with my parents' old menu, and the breakfast tradition grew and spread until, now huge, the church automatically has some breakfast snacks every week and of course decorates and feeds hundreds on Easter. Such a small thing, overall.

Happy Easter, y'all.