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Topic: Easter (05/30/05)
By Mary Alice Bowles
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I read about the Easter morning sunrise and I wandered, “could it really be that beautiful”? The book said that on that particular morning, the very air is filled with anticipation as peace wraps and holds and hugs like a best friend. I must be there; I must feel this inner peace as the sun comes over the mountain.
I can just imagine the sun coming over the mountain as one single beam, exploding inch by inch and second by second as far as the eye can see. First it peeks over the top of the mountain and touches the needles on the Virginia Pine and the white oak is bathed in shades of whites and blues. The tulip like leaves at the top of the yellow poplar tree dances with glee as if to say, thanks for touching me. As each sun beam touches each bush and vine, they come alive and stand up and then bow down in honor of their daily visitor. They shout for joy and extend the invitation for their life source to travel on down the mountain side swallowing Farmer Browns place at the head of the Eastern holler.
This year 2005, I promised myself "Miranda this year you are going to make it, you can do it"!
More than anything in the whole world, I want to be standing out there in my back yard garden, watching the sun come over those Tennessee Hills on Easter Sunday morning, if only I could just wake up! Every Easter Sunday morning, I always oversleep, it’s like someone has given me a sleeping pill and when I finally wake up, I have totally missed the whole sunrise. Then for sure I want to smack myself.
Now here I am again, it’s March 26, 2005, Easter eve; I laid the children’s Easter outfits out, knowing they would be the most beautiful children at the Easter service. George, my only son, slim and trim in his navy blue suit. Vickie Lynn, in her red velvet dress with that black hair of hers shining like the moon on a harvest night. Then there’s Kathy Lou, she’s 8 years old and decided to pick out her own Easter dress. It’s blue gingham and it sure is Kathy. The truth is, she’s so gracious and beautiful, she would look good in a flour sack. Tammie Sue, my fourth child, wears green all the way, her color of all colors.
Her green eyes will just sparkle and dance in that green straight dress with t-straps and a little shoulder jacket and of course, she had to have a little purse to match. Then my last and final child, Chastity Carol will be the most beautiful baby in the nursery. She is eleven months old and the lilac dress I bought for her has a bonnet with lace trim and ties in a bow just beneath her beautiful round baby face.
2005 EASTER SUNDAY MORNING 5 A.M.
I lay there sound asleep, enjoying the silk of my favorite pink flowered blanket. Then this soft tender voice from somewhere inside my head said, “MIRANDA, MIRANDA”! I turned over, rubbed my eyes and looked around, realizing someone had called my name. I sat up on the side of the bed and then there it was again, “MIRANDA”. The voice was coming from my little whatnot stand in the corner of my bedroom. The purple ceramic angel that my grandmother had bought me for Christmas stood there in all her glory, speaking to me at daybreak. Again, I heard her voice, “MIRANDA”! Then I thought “why in the world is she calling my name”? It was at that moment that I remembered, “Oh yes, Oh yes, thank you Jesus”!
Then I grabbed my Winnie the Pooh house shoes and my orange house coat, threw it over my Winnie the Pooh pajamas, ran downstairs and escaped out the back kitchen door just in time to see the sun exploding over the mountain top.
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