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How Grover Taught Me about Easter Joy


Grover taught me about the joy of Easter morning.  I knew the Easter story, see my previous blog post.  However, until someone is NOT where you expect them or someone is where you LEAST expect them -- only then can you step in the very soil of Easter joy. 

Grover was an elder of a PCUSA church near the Cumberland Gap in Kentucky.  He was the "open-the-doors-in-the-morning" and "there-until-the-last-light-is-out" elder. His wife brought cookies every Sunday morning.  My children felt rather than knew this couple's ministry.  One morning, there weren't any cookies because Grover's wife had died suddenly.  My daughter was astonished!  How could this happen? She insisted that we bring cookies the next Sunday.  Since Sunday School wasn't until HOURS after  two toddlers were awake, we began a year and a half practice of making sugar cookies for church on Sunday, yes every Sunday. My three year old nudged us into taking up this ministry of hospitality. We would walk around a hill, over the bridge, stop and count the ducks, then continue up a steep hill to church-- with my son in a green wagon holding a plate of warm cookies.  It wasn't the same, but it felt a bit more like "church." 
First Presbyterian Church  Middlesboro Sunday School

One Sunday, Grover was not at church.  Grover does NOT miss church; a stroke had laid this Phi Beta Kappa, sharp minded servant low.  This loss was hard for a mother of two toddlers to explain, but we were a little more careful to turn out the lights, to pick up our crayons, and to wait for their dad so we could all walk home together.  The loss of Grover was one that we all had to make room for in our Sunday life. The absence was there, even as the work of the church went forward, but Sunday mornings felt a little hollow.  

Easter Sunday, two finely dressed children were outfitted in their smocked outfits and smart white shoes; they held flowers from their mother's garden to decorate the cross in the sanctuary.  We were going to celebrate that the cross of sacrifice and death became the cross of victory and life! After the prelude was played, the pastor started the call to worship.  An excited congregation of probably 100 were situating themselves for an hour of familiar stories and comforting hymns...only to see the door in the front of the sanctuary open a little late. Typically, one would enter through the main door located in the back of sanctuary, but no. The door opening down front was closer to the pews where the floor did not have a slope.  The door down front...just to the right of the pastor...opened and in walked Grover.  

Silence has never been so quiet. All attention was drawn to the man who walked into the sanctuary.  He had walked into this sanctuary for probably 70 years, but this one time...we stopped, we drew in a single communal breath and with the opening hymn's first chords...it was a rush to welcome Grover.  Clutching fresh flowers, the chicken wire encrusted cross was forgotten and hands, both wrinkled and fresh, reached for Grover.  His loss had been palpable; the reunion was divine.  

That Easter, the songs were sung louder, the prayers were prayed deeper, and Easter Joy was overflowing in a small church near the Cumberland Gap in Kentucky. 
Second Presbyterian Church  Indianapolis, IN 


To quote a favorite Easter hymn, "This is the feast of Victory for our God!" (Festival Canticle, Hillert and Arthur)

The spirit of new life had been moving through the church all year, but on this one Easter Morning we found ourselves in the garden with the Risen Christ.  I invite you to join me there--where ever you may live.  Peace! 
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