This Easter morning was unlike any other. It kicked off with Easter Eve vigil at St. Ann’s, so I was just arriving home during the first few minutes of Easter. I had gone to the service three years ago when my sister joined the church. This year was different because I was prepared for the two hour service and really tried to embrace the message.
This Easter morning I did not have to get up at a certain time in the morning. I wasn’t traveling anywhere, which is an unusual occurrence. And it was just going to be a small gathering at the parents’ home in Durant, another rare event.
So I slept in until after 9:00 a.m. (Saying that declares I am getting older, as 9:00 a.m. used to be considered early.) I looked out my bedroom window to see St. Anthony church in all its glory, with cars stacked along the streets. And then my first notable post-sleep Easter morning moment: a man being arrested on Main Street.
He was middle-aged, and I assumed at first he had been trying to break into a car and steal something. Then, as the cop car was beginning to pull away, a young guy came out of a neighboring building with some sort of paper. So maybe he was harassing someone or hanging out where he shouldn’t have been.
Then I realized what he was doing wasn’t the issue. To me, the real issue was why he had come to be in this situation on Easter morning, of all times. It was sad, but eye opening. I had been a little bummed about not seeing extended family, or immediate family and close friends living far away, on Easter. But those were small potatoes.
Driving out of Davenport, a few more moments struck me. A few guys were loading a guitar into the back of their white van with Florida plates. I wondered where their band played the night before and where they were going on Easter morning.
A rude driver honked at someone at an intersection. I didn’t see anyone doing anything out of line, so it struck me as rude, especially on Easter morning.
I was beginning to wonder if I was the only one outside of St. Anthony church thinking about Jesus and all that jazz when I saw the flashing Culver’s sign saying “Happy Easter” and then the Club Mokan sign saying “God Bless America”. They were electronic, non-human items, but I counted it as a reassuring sign that it really was Easter morning.
Then I arrived in Durant, ate ham and potatoes, and found my Easter basket. All was well with Easter.