Over the years, I remember my Dad in Church on Easter Sunday. Sometimes he was a deacon, sometimes an elder. Honestly, I’m not sure what the difference is, but I know he was both for a long time, and always dressed in a way that reflected his station.
As a deacon and an elder, he was invited to read scripture from the pulpit, and count the money collected from the offering. He was chosen to do the former, because his voice can be heard by the old people in the congregation, who can’t hear much else. He was chosen to do the latter, because he’s immune to temptation, and therefore trusted with piles of cash, among other things. These days, I pray he’s immune to more than that.
Today, my folks attended their church from the same table they play cards on, (and for all I know, gamble like Philistines.) My dad dressed for the occasion, sort of, and mom documented the event, as she is wont to do. I have no idea what my mother wore, and frankly, don’t want to know.
Happy Easter to them, and you.