"I'll paint these and you can paint one of the howts," plans the oldest, harboring an arm span of baked dough shapes.
"Let's only choose pieces that tell the Easter Story." i direct.
"This is a colt. We'll use him," she decisively declares, cradling a baked dough horse in her open palm.
"Hmmm, ok. Is there a colt in the Easter Story?" i probe.
silence. thinking. "Yes, Jesus rode on a colt to Jerusalem," daughter quietly answers, waves of honey cascading past her shoulders. for a moment i close my eyes and offer up a silent prayer of thanksgiving for knowledge growing from scattered seeds taking root in the heart of this child .
after painting, we decide on an order to the dough shapes that will hang at the kitchen window retelling and reminding: heart, colt, heart, cross, heart, angel, cross, star.
we slide the fuchsia ribbon through the first heart. this is how the Easter story begins, with love.
For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son...John 3:16
to seek, save, serve, and restore, replacing stone with flesh.
next we thread the ribbon through the colt.
Go...and you will find a colt.... Mark 11:2
This colt "which no one has ever ridden" will carry the Messiah into his final days before the crucifixion. a humble, lowly little colt to carry the King of Kings. i pause and consider the vessels He uses; my heart leaps with hope.
another heart is added to the line. with this heart we talk about the love Jesus has for us which leads Him to die in obedience to the Father. Jesus: seeker, savior, servant, healer, teacher, sinless one took on Himself all of our shameful, disgusting, disturbing, hateful, hurtful, deadly sins that separate us from God. this plan was so magnificent, so incomprehensibly complex while simple, so absolutely fueled by love.
this brings us to the cross.
And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient to death— even death on a cross! Philippians 2:8
a death reserved for criminals, insurrectionists. whipped, ridiculed, pierced, nailed, hung, separated from the Father....all for us.
we string along another heart to reiterate the unprecedented, sacrificial love Jesus has for us.
next we come to the angel. this is Ava's favorite part of the story. mary, Jesus' friend, and a few other women are the first to see the empty tomb. dismayed, confused, they grasp for understanding. while standing there wondering, angels bright as lightening appear and say,
"Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here; he has risen!" Luke 24:6
yet we do it, don't we? look for the living among the dead?
this query strikes the heart, bringing everything into startling focus:
He is not here.
Father, bring my heart into focus. help me to only search for You among the living.
a second cross is added to the line of figures. this one serves as a reminder: He is not here; he has risen!
we thread the last of our shapes: a star splashed bright with yellow. our hearts propelled into startling focus by the resurrection, we are given direction and clarity.
"I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life." John 8:12
"Jesus is the light of the world!" proclaims the softened four-and-a-half-year-old heart glowing in the morning sunlight across the table from me.
Savior, shine Your light in every dark crevice of my heart. bring into the open that which is sinful and dead. strengthen me to repent and accept Your loving grace and forgiveness.
tying a knot at the end of our shapes, my eye is drawn to the fuchsia ribbon weaving through the story, connecting pieces. my heart weakens with realization. His flowing blood is a fuchsia ribbon weaving through our hearts, supplying life. this blood flows, restoring us back into relationship with Creator, Father, Love.
Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me, and I in him. John 6:56
drink this blood of life. remain in Him.
kitchen window flooding with morning light, i hang the symbolic figures retelling the Easter story. a story so incomprehensibly complex while simple, so absolutely fueled by love.
my gaze drifts beyond the window to a worshipful expression of new life, rebirth: a trellis heavy with expectant yellow buds of carolina jessamine.
father, thank you for this new life, rebirth i have through Christ Jesus. i pray that my heart, also, is heavy with expectant buds fueled by the richest of soil, the flowing blood of your Son.
