I called my mother today. After talking about other things-stuff related to graduation and the cancellation of soap operas-I got down to the question that was the most important.
"What color are y'all wearing for Easter this year?"
"Lilac."
Easter was, and is, a big deal in my family. It was, and is, a big deal in a lot of families that I know back home. Easter was, and is, a big day. Easter was such a big deal and day because on Easter we would wear an outfit that we got especially for that day. Most of the time we were all color coordinated-my father would normally wear a shirt and tie that matched in color what my mother and I were wearing-and, once I started wearing them, I got a new hat (my mother doesn't wear hats).
Easter (and Mother's Day to a lesser degree) was CHURCH-church on a grand scale. Dressing for God, only better. Little girls would have on their white tights, new patent leather Mary Janes and little purses that couldn't hold much of anything. Some would wear hats-the famed Easter bonnet. The ones who didn't would have ribbon bows and pretty barrettes in their plaited or braided hair. Little boys would be in suits and ties and dress shoes. And the church mothers, those grande dames of the church, would outshine us all-dresses or suits in every color of the rainbow and the most outrageous and beautiful hats.
For Easter to be CHURCH, it takes some planning. In my family preparation for Easter typically takes about a month, give or take a couple of weeks. First, the color has to be chosen. This would be done by my mother and my aunt (her sister). And there were two "rules" to consider; the color can't be the same color we wore last year and the color should not be black. Once the color was chosen, a Saturday was picked and all the females of the family would go shopping. Some years it was easy; the outfits would appear like manna from heaven. Other years, it was parched earth-not an outfit or hat to be found. In the parched earth years, after the fruitless shopping, it was off to the fabric store to search through pattern books and find just the right material to match the vision my mother and aunt had in their heads. Then would be the mad dash to get all the outfits made in time for the big day.
Even though in church Brother Ralph Smith, our minister, would say to the congregation every year on Easter Sunday, "Today is not a special day. We celebrate Easter every Sunday," nobody paid him any mind. We all knew what we came to church for every Sunday; to celebrate the life, death, burial and resurrection of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. But on Easter Sunday, we would be celebrating all of that, and then some, in our new outfits -- no matter what Brother Smith said.
Some things have changed since those days - my cousins and I are grown and two of us don't live in St. Louis at the moment. The big shopping day is now focused on my mother and aunt buying Easter outfits for my aunt's grandchildren. And since it tends to be just the two of them shopping, the shopping trip rarely occurs on Saturday anymore; Thursday or Friday morning means less crowds and easier parking.
But some things haven't changed. My cousin and her family will travel from Chicago to St. Louis to spend Easter with the rest of the family. They will be wearing lilac.
Then there's me, the one in-between. Sometimes I think Brother Smith was right; Easter isn't really all that special. We ought to celebrate the possibility of new, and renewed, life all the time. I won't be in St. Louis for Easter this year. And I won't be wearing a hat (don't think that would work too well with my robe in the pulpit). Yet I too will be wearing lilac.
Maybe you can wear a hat for me instead.
Kimberly Hampton
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