I love Easter Sunday! 
My family rarely went to church while I was growing up, but I always knew we would attend on Easter morning. Weeks of preparation went into that wonderful day.  My mom, an amazing seamstress, would sew frilly dresses and matching coats for my sister and me and we would painstakingly search for perfect hats and shoes to complete our Spring ensemble. Every year the sanctuary, dressed in lilies and stained glass, seemed bigger and more beautiful and "up from the grave He arose" sank deeper into my soul.
I believe it was the happiest hour of my year as I sang and recited and prayed among the floral bonnets and white patent leather shoes.
I was meant to worship!
I remember one Easter I became very ill with a raging infection; my mom broke the news to me that I would be staying home with her while the rest of our family, draped in their finery, pulled out of the driveway. Through my long sobs, I cried, "but I'll have to wait for another year and that is way too long."  
And it was too long...
Too long not to hear the message of  resurrection and victory and hope. 
Too long not to hear organ pipes and choir lofts sing of his majesty.
But once again, that perfect Sunday morning would return and the annual scattering of faith seeds would commence. 
Yes, I was meant to worship!  
And to this day, I can hardly wait for Easter Sunday; to enter his courts and sing to the King! To see the Church shed its winter doldrums and don its finest for the Resurrected Savior.
Oh, Church arise and let the celebration begin!