Mooning the Baptists on Easter Sunday
The momentous Christian significance of Easter fills me with awe. The bunnies, baskets, candies, and ham dinner with all the trimmings are fun and something to look forward to, but they play a very small part in the observance.
In 2001, I married my second husband, a United Methodist Minister. My relocation from a moderate climate to a rural community 400 miles north in deep snow country added new expressions to my vocabulary like "frost line" and "lake effect snow."
Unfortunately, our marriage didn’t work out, but during the years we were married, The Holy Days brought a unique and additional appreciation and joy to my Easter celebration.
Small communities often combine their congregations for an ecumenical Easter Sunrise service. Parks, hillsides, and lakeshores are popular gathering places for the annual early morning observance.
In one small town, where my husband was pastor at the local Methodist church, the Easter Sunrise service always took place on a picturesque hilltop in the local cemetery. I felt very blessed as I looked around at my neighbors who had come together, not as individuals from varying denominations, but as Christians celebrating the resurrection of Christ.
The headstones still had a dusting of snow, but the air was pleasantly mild. Purple and yellow crocus peeked through the thawing earth, revealing their promise of the impending warm weather. Prayers and homilies were given by the Wesleyan, Presbyterian, Lutheran and other local ministers, so that all were included.
Following the service, the celebrants made their annual pilgrimage down the hill to an ancient red brick Baptist church where everyone gathered for the Easter morning community pancake breakfast. My husband and I strolled down the sidewalk chatting amiably with our neighbors as we all walked toward the church anticipating the delicious breakfast treat.
We made our way through the line and readily accepted two plates brimming with scrambled eggs, sausage, and soft, tawny buckwheat pancakes. I took a seat at a long, brown luncheon table and contentedly poured thick, locally harvested amber syrup over my picture perfect pancakes.
While chatting with others seated around us, I suddenly sensed the presence of someone behind me and felt a hand lightly touch my right shoulder. Before I could turn to see who was there, a woman bent forward and whispered into my left ear, “Did you know the seam of your skirt has unraveled?”
Fearful of what I might discover, I apprehensively felt beneath my skirt and realized my entire backside was exposed. I caught my husband’s eye indicating that I needed to speak to him. He tilted his head toward me and I softly whispered, “I need to go home. The back of my skirt has come open.”
He innocently looked into my eyes and in an equally soft tone replied, “I know. It’s been like that all morning.”
