Palm Sunday

Did you do this when you were a kid? Cause I sure did. Every Palm Sunday.
My older sister did it, then I did it when I got old enough to be in Grades 3-6 Choir at First United Methodist.

Line up at the back of the church. You get one palm frond - two if you're lucky. DO NOT HIT YOUR NEIGHBOR or YOU WILL LOSE your PALM FROND.

This had to be yelled repeatedly to the boys.

The choreography is even simpler than the melody. Hosanna, sing hosanna (raise both arms up) Hosanna to the King (cross arms over your head, lower again). Repeat, seven million times, walking towards the front of the church, singing, walking, trying not to trip on your choir robe or giggle so hard that you can't sing.

Easter was a major holiday. New Easter Dress, new Easter Hat, (yes we wore hats to church, we are rural and we are godfearing) big Easter Egg hunt, and a massive gathering of 40 or so members of the extended family. We did bunny, chick and egg-centric crafts WAY in advance and left pastel and easter grass shrapnel wherever we went.

Easter has all but disappeared from my life now. Brandon doesn't miss it at all. "It was a lot like Halloween," he explained to me last night. "It just meant that I got candy." His folks didn't go to church. That's why they're so much nicer than my family and they still actually speak to one other.


I wonder how to put those memories and traditions back into my life in a way that doesn't fake excitement about a religion I no longer identify with, but still continues my culture and the wonderful, wonderful thing that is Spring and the world coming back to life after being dead and frozen for such a long time.

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