I can remember Easter Sundays growing up in the ’60s. Waking up early for Sunday morning, looking forward to a big Easter brunch and an egg hunt later that day. And all the fuss my parents endured trying to get all five of us children spit-spot and ready for church. I have the snapshot of that day, squinting into the camera as my father took our pictures.

My two sisters and I are dressed in matching pastel ensembles: mandatory white hats, white gloves, and white lace-trimmed stockings. Fancy Nancy would have loved every minute of it! Me?…not so much.

Unfortunately, these dresses were not the most comfortable get-ups. They were nipped in tightly at the waistline (too tight, as I never had much of a curvy shape), and were made of fussy fabrics like organza or starched lace. Underneath voluminous skirts were layers of stiff petticoats that pricked the backs of my thighs when I sat down.

Church in those days was formal and seemed to last an eternity long. To me it was boring, something to be endured. Sadly, most of what was said that day was lost on that 6-year-old girl who spent the time gazing out the window at the beautiful spring day.

Looking back fifty years at the long church service, the discomfort of a tight waistline, and being poked by a petticoat is all I remember. But now it takes on new significance. I recognize now what it was to have a child’s perspective.

My memory of that day stands as a pinpoint along the sweeping timeline of Christian history. Generation after generation has marked that first Sunday morning, when Mary Magdalene discovered the stone had been taken away and the tomb was empty. It is the event that defines our faith.

Remembering that Easter from long ago jogged me into praise today. It reminded me that as I sat and fidgeted, distracted and fixated on chocolate eggs, the Lord of glory patiently waited for the significance of Easter to finally dawn on me a decade later.

I have been choosing my own Easter dresses for quite some time, thank you very much. (This year, it’s vibrant orange and made of comfortable fabric in a shape that suits me…forget the petticoat, gloves, and lace stockings.)

Like the child of long ago, I still grumble and complain. I still get distracted and fidget, fixating on things that are not important. And I often miss the opportunities to worship the Savior in those moments of stillness.

I am still longing and looking forward. Only now, I look forward to better things. Easter Sunday with family and good friends, sure. Celebrations full of laughter, games, and maybe even some chocolate eggs—why not? But mostly I am hoping to better appreciate the significance this sacred day.

This year, as we plan our celebrations, may the significance of Easter not be lost on us or our families. May the day be filled with joy and sacred moments to be still and worship our risen Lord.