Two weeks ago, it would have been Easter. Before my family left for Hawaii, we discussed the possibilities, and my mom proposed we create our own service. We were enthusiastic.
I come from the kind of family who went to church, even on vacation. When we got groceries, before we took them back to the beach house, we drove by the Lutheran church to see when they offered Sunday services.
I have happy memories of being at campgrounds far from civilization. If it was summer, there might be an ecumenical service at the fire circle or ampitheatre; I so loved those experiences that I applied to be a worker or volunteer in the program that took those worship services to the national parks--one of many jobs I did not get.
Occasionally, we'd find ourselves in campsites with no program, and we'd create our own. We would create the worship service and then we'd find a place to worship. When my sister and I got older, we'd be in charge.
We had a similar experience on Easter Sunday in Hawaii. We walked around the grounds, past the worship service that a local congregation was offering. They were still assembling, but their band was playing typical praise music, with no Easter theme at all.
Yes, we are music snobs. My mother brought worship supplies with her, including the words to several Easter hymns.
We walked across a manicured lawn to the rocky beach beyond. We saw a spot that looked like an altar, even though it was possibly a fire circle:
We each found a rock to sit on in a circle around the rock. We read the Easter reading for Easter Sunday. We sang "Jesus Christ Is Risen Today" and "This Little Light of Mine" and "It Only Takes a Spark." That last one is one we sang at Lutheridge and in our camper, and then my sister grew up to sing it as a lullaby to my nephew.
It was a short, simple service. We had no Eucharist, for a variety of reasons, including the fact that we're both Lutherans and Catholics in my family. That's the one element I'd have liked to have found a way to include.
I like the way that the rocks looked like the empty tomb. I returned later and took the pictures. I also like the way the waves washed up against the rocks. I got a sense of the Holy Spirit, a precursor to Pentecost, in the shot below:
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