Something Was Special

That particular Sunday morning had always been sunny and later closer to the noon it would rain. Those were happy spring days when the snow melted and the trees became green. Neighborhood was alive and children ran on the street, popping to each other homes and breaking painted eggs and eating baked sweet breads.

As I look back at it, I find it interesting that we had Easter during the Soviet time. Well, it is a different story if I or any of my friends for that matter knew the reason of the celebration.

I remember I felt shy to respond to "Jesus has risen!" with "Risen indeed!" because I did not understand who or what they were talking about. The word Jesus in Russian was so alien to me. I had no clue of the "risen" part of it either.

Nevertheless, there was something special about that day every year. I was not interested too much in eggs though I liked the sweet bread my mother and later my sister baked.

Couple years later I heard something about Son of God dying and then becoming alive again for the humanity. I did not grasp it too much but something was divine about it, something sacred. And I loved to look in the rainy sky and think of God who, like somebody said, was crying for us.

And now, many years later I say a prayer of thanks to God who brings peace into my life. I do miss the rain and even if God does not cry now, I know He loves us, the humanity.

Jesus has risen indeed!