An Easter for Doubters Like Me

Growing up, Easter was an occasion when I spent a few weeks looking for the perfect, white dress, which also required white tights, even in Florida’s 80-degree weather. The car ride to church would smell of hairspray and cigarette smoke, and after our big, Southern Baptist Easter service, we’d eat out at a steakhouse. After I finished off my sirloin tips and chocolate cake, I’d return home to my Easter basket, full of plastic grass and chocolate eggs. This was deeply imprinted on my brain, and t...