The weather is comfortable; not warm, not cool. Today is the first day in a long while which the wind has desisted. There's a gently breeze ruffling my curtains. The sun did shine ever so brightly this morning when my alarm clock honked at 6:45. Despite my white linen curtains and two-inch blinds, the morning sunshine leaked through. Tomorrow is Easter Sunday, and I hadn't purchased a new dress for the occasion. It would have been fine with me if I didn't get one. Just the chance to be able to wear summer dresses again is a most welcomed change from turtlenecks and sweaters; and I've got enough dresses. The morning was too beautiful though to not venture outside.
By 11 a.m. I was out the door and headed for the mall, which I had not visited since the holidays. Once I arrived, I am reminded as to why I avoid the mall, this one in particular. All those kiosk vendors who asked me to try their sample, and if I do they want to engage me in a sales pitch...or they want to straighten my hair...or they want me to check out their latest cell phone model even though I belong to a different carrier...or they want me to fill out a survey. Good heavens. Can one not enjoy a leisurely stroll down the air conditioned corridors? Sadly, I have learned that if I make eye contact with a vendor and smile--out of sheer politeness and friendliness--it is a signal to them to come beckon me to their stall. So...no longer do I try to make eye contact. Which is a sad state. For I do like people to acknowledge me if we're crossing paths; hence, I attempt to acknowledge others...except now not with the kiosk people.
As I mentioned earlier, tomorrow is Easter Sunday. The church I attend has big plans for tomorrow. Big plans. Which caused me to think back of what it was like when Easter Sunday was a simple church service. I remember attending a country Baptist church when I was little. We only had a piano player for the music department. There were no rehearsals (except for the church Christmas play). Our worship leader was a thin man who taught music at the local high school. He had a good voice and would begin each Sunday by telling us which hymn number to turn to in our hymnals. My cousins and I would be attired in our Easter dresses. We'd always tried to sit together during service and fidget in the solid, unforgiving wooden pews whose cushions were well sat upon and deflated. After the singing our pastor would preach. Sometimes I find myself missing the simplicity of it all. I even miss the old hymns with verses that contained words not regularly used in our vocabulary. What I find myself longing for this year is music from the masters. The classical genius of Handel's Messiah. The simplicity of the words coupled with such music. Is this not what Easter Sunday is about? The Messiah.
As for the dress, I did find one. It's simple.
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