Angels Don't Lie With Jeanne Street

Believe it or not, my fondest childhood memories that surround Easter are not of the contents that were inside my Easter basket.  Even though, I am certain that my mom created beautiful baskets for my siblings and I. But the memories that I hold most dear are how I felt about our family’s tradition of attending sunrise services on Easter morning. The excitement of waking before the sunrise, getting dressed and standing outside all dazed with sleepiness, gathered together with our neighbors and fellow parishioners to watch as the sun peek up out of the earth, seeing the grass, budding trees, and flowers light up as the first brilliant rays burst through with the awakening sun.    Sunrise service was spectacular. I knew the history of Jesus' life and why we stood together in that field. But it was the feeling of genuine renewal that made those moments stay with me. I felt Jesus smiling through the rays as if he was reaching inside my heart and the hearts of those around me. It was a blissful state that I still