Palm Sunday is one of my favorite days in the church, even though I know what the end of Holy Week portends.
I love the triumphant parade of palms.
I love the hymns we sing.
But mostly it makes me remember my mother. The Mama (as we kids called her in the 60s when everyone had a nickname) always made sure I had a new Easter dress and whatever else I might feel was important for the occasion. She, herself, would not wear anything new on Easter; however in her mind it was OK to wear something new for Palm Sunday.
That is one of her quirks I wish I had asked about while she was living.
She was a leader of women in two of the churches we belonged to, but she declined to be nominated as Elder after women were being admitted in the Presbyterian church. Another thing I wish I had asked about.
Today was Palm Sunday.
The kids processed with palms accompanied by the brass ensemble. The choir sang a special anthem. Two young people were accepted into membership. And the handbells played "For the Beauty of the Earth".
I left my camera at home so I can't show you the impressive display of bells. We play mostly easy stuff, but we make an impression with additional bass bells and doubling up the upper octaves. As long as my notes fall somewhere on the staff, I'm OK -- one of the hazards of aging. That, and I need good lighting to see the notes. ;-)
Today was Palm Sunday. I am restored.