So often we let Easter come and go with very little thought. Another year goes by, another special Easter dress or shirt purchased, another basket full of candies. It sneaks up on us and before we know it, it’s gone again.
But what if this year we did Easter differently? What if this year we remembered it? What if we let our hearts and minds dwell in what Easter means to us? What if we prepared our hearts for what this Easter might bring?
Whether it’s the Easter eggs, a favorite hymn of the Sunday service, joyous childhood memories, or even the the worn-out tradition that we’ve grown weary of, we want to get the people of Two Rivers thinking about Easter. So, we asked a few members of 2RC this simple question, and this is what they said….
What comes to mind when you think of Easter?
…. I think of Easter Sunday, 1992.
Growing up, both sets of my Grandparents lived in Minnesota. My Grandma and Grandpa Warner and my Uncle Bob (who is mentally handicapped) would typically come down to Tennessee and visit for a couple months in the winter.
I remember Grandma would either be reading her bible, twiddling her thumbs and looking out the window, or crocheting blankets for everyone. I remember lying in the bed with her while looking out the window and she would talk to me about Jesus coming down on a cloud. She loved Jesus.
I was Grandpa’s girl. I was also named after him. He loved woodworking and he was creative. Also, he was missing half of his finger & I had never known anyone with half a finger! Grandpa started a home for mentally challenged boys in the 1950’s. He had compassion and love and he made a difference in a lot of people lives. He was good and faithful. He was a hugger.
On Easter Sunday in 1992, My mom was in Minnesota and I believe my Dad was out of town on business. I was twelve years old and I was in Sunday School at Ooltewah United Methodist Church. My pastor, Randy Martin, walked into our class and asked my brother and me to come with him to his office. He sat us down to talk to us because my Grandpa Warner had just passed away that morning. He went to be with Jesus.
Every Easter I think about that Easter Sunday in 1992. I remember my mom talking about what a glorious day it was for Grandpa Warner to pass away and be with Jesus. Each Easter I am reminded of how much I miss him. Each Easter I am reminded that we will see him again.