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I would go to church with my mother, dressed up in a fancy new dress with a hat and white gloves. The church was always crowded, the Easter lilies were beautiful, and my favorite part was the music. I loved the joyful sounds of the trumpets and the Alleluia’s.

After my mother died, I gradually drifted away from church, and stayed away until about 5 years ago. When I first started going back, I cried often, especially on Easter Sunday, which was quite embarrassing and uncomfortable. I figured out that was grieving for my mother, and I kept going. I learned to carry lots of kleenex with me, although lately I’ve been getting careless. The tears still come back from time to time, especially on Easter Sunday, but now they don’t last, and the joy has returned. Yesterday we had a timpani soloist up in choir loft to add a booming note to the trumpets and alleluia’s. The music was great, and I am grateful to be back.