For the first time in my life I wouldn\u2019t be in church on Easter Sunday. I\u2019d promised my husband, George, that I would go camping with him and some of our friends that weekend in April to celebrate his birthday. It didn\u2019t even cross my mind that it might be Easter. <\/p>\n
Only later did I realize my mistake, too late to cancel the trip. That\u2019s all right,<\/em> I told myself. You go to church every Sunday. You can take this Sunday off.<\/em><\/p>\n But now I kept thinking of what I would be missing. Organ music ringing from the rafters, the sweet smell of Easter lilies at the altar, our friends dressed in their spring best, all of us repeating the ancient refrain: \u201cHe is risen, he is risen indeed.\u201d <\/p>\n I kept replaying Easter memories: hunting colored eggs in the backyard with my brother as a child, driving five hours home from college to attend church with my parents, posing my children in their new outfits for the annual photo. <\/p>\n Even now when it was just George and me, empty nesters, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder in our packed church, Easter was special. I felt guilty about not celebrating.<\/p>\n As soon as we got to Cades Cove Campground, in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, I hurried to the welcome station to ask the ranger if she knew of any groups holding Easter services.<\/p>\n \u201cNot that I\u2019ve heard,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat about the churches in Cades Cove?\u201d<\/p>\n The ranger frowned. \u201cIf they are, no one\u2019s told us,\u201d she said, shaking her head as if I\u2019d asked an odd question.<\/p>\n Cades Cove is one of the most popular spots in the park. Every year almost two million visitors travel its 11-mile loop by car, foot or bicycle, to catch a glimpse of not just the wildlife in the area\u2014the white-tailed deer, coyotes, wild turkey, red foxes, even the occasional black bear, symbol of the Great Smoky Mountains\u2014but also its historical roots.<\/p>\n The first settlers came to Cades Cove in the 1820s. They cleared, plowed and planted the land. They built log cabins and barns and mills that sheltered and sustained them and their descendants for over a hundred years. <\/p>\n When the land was purchased to make a national park in the 1930s, these settlers\u2019 families moved away. The preserved buildings remain, including Cades Cove\u2019s three old churches.<\/p>\n I went back to our campsite. We played Scrabble and had campfire hot dogs for lunch. \u201cWho\u2019s up for a bike ride through Cades Cove?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019d love to, Jennie.\u201d \u201cSure.\u201d \u201cCount me in.\u201d We headed off to the village. I pulled over at stop number four on the self-guided tour: the Primitive Baptist church. Maybe someone had posted a notice for a service? Nope. Same with stop number five, the Methodist church. And stop number seven, the Missionary Baptist church. <\/p>\n I\u2019d struck out. There would be no Easter service for me this year.<\/p>\n Sunday morning I awoke at dawn to a heavy fog. George was still asleep and none of our friends were stirring. I scrawled a note, put it next to the coffeepot, grabbed my bike and pedaled to Cades Cove. \u201cMorning,\u201d I said to the ranger who was just unlocking the gate. \u201cHappy Easter!\u201d<\/p>\n The new grass in the meadow was fresh with dew. White dogwood blossoms dotted the woods. A doe and her fawn stared at me through the mist. <\/p>\n Three miles in, I came to the charming little Cades Cove Methodist Church. Built in 1902, the white clapboard building had a sheet-metal roof and a simple bell tower. It had two doors, one for men and one for women, and both were open.<\/p>\n