Note: We

were distressed to learn Tuesday that Dr. Hatcher took a fall at the church

Monday night and sustained serious damage to his knee. At press time Tuesday,

he spoke to us from Fayette Community Hospital where he was awaiting word

on surgery, possibly Wednesday. We sincerely wish him a speedy recovery

and are reprinting one of his Easter columns from a past issue.

I'm leaving

it to all my colleagues to say the profound and wonderful things about

next week, the week that changed the world. And about the significance

of what the world calls Easter and we call Resurrection Sunday. So, just

let me reflect on Easter memories.

The earliest:

the neighborhood kids (I was four years old at the time) had been invited

to an Easter Egg Hunt. Mama took me and two of my sisters since we were

in the "hunting" age range. Mama told me that I came home from

the hunt very disturbed and disappointed because they didn't have any

"rooster" eggs. All they had was candy eggs. To me Easter was

not Easter without real eggs.

Later, we learned

about the necessity of Easter Egg baskets with their artificial grass

on which to lay your treasured finds. Well, we just didn't have the money

to buy artificial turf so I went out in the yard and pulled up sprigs

of grass and put them in the basket. It was not as cool as the real artificial

thing. But a boy has to do what a boy has to do.

One Easter

Egg Hunt was not enough for my two younger sisters and me. After hiding

the eggs outside and finding them, we would re-hide them in the house

oh, say five or six times. Hide and find. Sounds stupid now, but it was

fun then. We always kept count to make sure that we had found all the

eggs.

Once, we hid

one egg so well that it was not discovered several weeks later when a

trail of odor led us to it. Often, my extended family would join together

for an Easter Egg hunt on the beautiful grounds of my cousin in Phenix

City, Ala. After finding the eggs, rooster and candy, we all sat around

eating the boiled eggs and saltine crackers, washing them down with a

Coca-Cola. My Dad loved to eat eggs in that fashion.

The church

conducted an Easter Egg hunt one year. Parents were on ready to make sure

their children found their fair share. My Dad was no different. He would

spot one and dispatch me to secure it. I mean, what father is worth his

salt if he doesn't help his son or daughter find eggs. By the way, Daddy

like salt and pepper on his boiled eggs with saltines with a Coca-Cola.

In the old

days of the mostly mythical Easter Parades, church folks tried best we

could to come up with a new dress, new suit, new tie, new shoes, and certainly

when women had batter taste, a new hat (just my personal opinion which

I know is not politically correct).

Mama and Daddy

had bought me a light colored Palm Beach Suit. I clearly remember the

label though I was just 10 years old. It was the most beautiful suit I

had ever seen. I felt like a million dollars as I wore it. It's been now

43 years since, and I still carry regret that after that wonderful Easter

when I wore that Palm Beach suit that I was never able to wear it again.

I grew bigger. Such a beautiful suit, but I was growing so fast. Sad!

Now, just maybe

a little sermon. Just maybe there are some things that we truly have outgrown

and need to leave the land of regret. After all, Easter is all about Resurrection,

not reflection!

John Hatcher is pastor of

Outreach International

Center

1091 South Jeff Davis

Drive

Fayetteville, Georgia

30215

770-719-0303

Back

to the Top of the Page