Easter morning. A day that I have many fond memories of from my childhood.
My mother always got me a new dress and shoes for the day, and, usually, a special bow or sometimes a little hat for my head. New clothes were not that common in my life so I always looked forward to this chance to dress up.
Then on to church where there was, of course, a special service and special music for the day. And there would be some kind of program involving the children. A chance to perform! A chance to show off for an appreciative audience of parents.
After that, of course, came the high point of the day for us kids - the Easter egg hunt with the possibility of being the lucky one to find the Prize Egg.
Finally, home for a very special lunch, shared with company - uncles, aunts, cousins, and sometimes, when it was our turn, the preacher and his family.
Simple pleasures for simple lives.
In some parts of the world, Easter is a far more grand occasion. Oscar Wilde wrote of such grandiosity and compared it to the life of the man whom the day is supposedly all about.
by Oscar Wilde
The silver trumpets rang across the Dome:
The people knelt upon the ground with awe:
And borne upon the necks of men I saw,
Like some great God, the Holy Lord of Rome.
Priest-like, he wore a robe more white than foam,
And, king-like, swathed himself in royal red,
Three crowns of gold rose high upon his head:
In splendour and in light the Pope passed home.
My heart stole back across wide wastes of years
To One who wandered by a lonely sea,
And sought in vain for any place of rest:
“Foxes have holes, and every bird its nest,
I, only I, must wander wearily,
And bruise my feet, and drink wine salt with tears.”
It must be said that the present pope seems much more in empathy with the "One who wandered by a lonely sea, And sought in vain for any place of rest" and with those who still wander and seek. Most likely, he would wash his/their feet and offer him/them a place to rest.