It’s been nearly two weeks since Easter Sunday, and I’ve discovered that, despite my expectations, things simply aren’t slowing down. Since that Sunday, I’ve had more meetings than I care to count, community activities to tend to, wedding save-the-dates to mail, and the small task of moving to a house closer to the church and roomier (in preparation for Greg’s arrival in Connecticut come July).
Needless to say, I’ve been busy, and it seems as though you, dear reader, have been neglected. Lots of exciting things are on their way in the coming months, but for now, these pictures will have to suffice as a visual review of the last weeks.
Let’s start with Maundy Thursday. I carried two 6′ tables into the sanctuary and set them up in a slight “v” shape. At the center was my grandmother’s bread board (which she made biscuits in nearly every day of her adult life). Palms from Palm Sunday adorned the table, as did baskets of candles that worshippers were invited to light after leaving the table. We shared the feast in groups of twelve–an intimate meal on a sacred night.
Good Friday arrived, and with it came this prickly crown of thorns that circled the cross we carried around a local park. Read about that here.
On Saturday, some of my congregants came to the church to spruce things up and transform the sanctuary to it’s Easter glory.
Early the next morning (and I mean early–5:45 a. m.) we gathered on a local highpoint to watch the sunrise.
Then we gathered to worship at Westfield.
The same bread board was used for Holy Communion on Easter morning.
The silver cup closest to the bread is the 1732 Cup which was given to our congregation in 1732 by Mary Danielson.
Even our children were eager to help welcome visitors!
After worship, we had a community-wide Easter Egg hunt complete with 750 eggs to find and 40 baskets for hunters to gather their spoils in.
Later, I was so keyed up from the day, I found myself desperate to nap, but unable to quiet my mind enough to do so. So, I went for a drive. Along one of our higher roads, I paused to snap this next picture. The white spire in the distance is Westfield–a local landmark (in this incarnation) since 1854.