The things I could write about on this Easter Sunday morning...
I could go on and on and bore you to death about my Easter Sundays as a child, but I won’t. We all remember, the dressing up in our outfits, eggs and wabbits, peeps, baskets with fake grass, deviled eggs with ham, and all the rest.
This Easter Sunday morning I want to write about my memory of the Pound Cake Lady.
I was raised as a fundamentalist in the Southern Baptist tradition. On most Sundays our preachers preached hard against alcoholism, promiscuity, and narcotics because these things could lead to cigarette smoking.
Easter Sundays were different. They were cheerful, optimistic, and full of hope. I think they were looking forward to the covered dish lunch that would follow the service. And the ladies that brought those covered dishes...well, they were just blessed.
Every church had those talented ladies known for their speciality. Mrs. Thomas was known as the fried chicken lady. Mrs. Dupree made the world's best chicken and dumplings and Mrs. Lindsay was called the Pound cake
Lady.
Lady.
She was slight, with gray hair, and usually wore this bright blue skirt suit on Easter Sunday.
There are some people you don’t forget. She was one of those people.
She had a heavenly glow. People smiled when they passed by her like she was unique.
“Who’s that woman?” someone would ask.
“That is the Pound Cake Lady,” always,said in reverence.
After the Sunday Easter service, we would all go downstairs to the fellowship hall. Easter Sundays were bigger spreads than most. There was even a special table dedicated to cornbread and biscuits.
It was too much. Overwhelming. I even saw people standing outside the fellowship hall, smoking
cigarettes after their meal. It was as though they were unwinding after sin.
The woman in the blue skirt suit placed something on the end of the table. It was golden, fat, hulking, sacred pound cake.
“Hurry and get some, before it’s all gone.” went through everyone's mind.
The cake didn’t last four seconds, especially among those chain-smoking just outside the door. But when it disappeared, the old woman replaced it with another.
People blessed her name
forevermore. Hallelujah. And so did I.
Every church has a pound cake lady. They are young, middle-aged, or elderly, and they are holy. These ladies are messengers, sent to humanity as proof that God is not gluten-free. He loves white flour, sugar, and butter, no matter what diet books say.
If you have doubts whether your congregation has a pound cake lady, just ask your church secretary. She knows their phone number by heart.
May your Easter Sunday be blessed with the spirit of hope and optimism...Doc
