embracing the story, preparing hearts

"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.

one year, four days

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11

one year, four days.

despite my passive attempt to prolong what is to come, the time not only arrived but is now four days past. how can a mother describe the complex emotions towards the impending arrival of her child's first birthday? of course there is great joy and contentment in assurance of her baby's health, growth and development. after all, days of spit-up smeared shirts, leaking diapers, leaking breasts and sleepless nights are pushed back into the recesses of foggy memories. yet there is sadness, a longing for what is gone: sweet, milky baby breath; warm, peppery scent of her head; cradling a sleeping newborn. if i linger in this vain, sorrow for what is passing by too quickly casts a shadow over me.

instead i strain a little harder, squinting through the fog beyond this bitter-sweet moment to a time when motherhood was a dream greater than weddings, husbands, houses. crossing over into adulthood, that dream was dashed upon the rocks by crashing, volatile waves. heart heavy with grief, eyes swollen and burning from weeks of sorrow, hands empty. i remember You pulling me close, embracing my broken heart, broken dreams and whispering Your faithfulness into my ear, thoughts, heart, spirit. clinging to Your promises with desperate grip, my heart steeped in Your words until they infused blood and bone. You gave a gift to fill my hands, soothe my burning eyes, and lighten my heavy heart. hope. hope for what was unseen, by all accounts impossible. You turned my sorrow into hope, anxiety into peace. what was meant for destruction, death of dreams, you conceived in my heart a faith and trust to grow, mature.

seven years of hope and peace passed.

a cry rung out in the warm June sky. the cry of hope, peace, faith and trust birthed in spirit and in flesh. tears flowed from a mother's eyes in awe of experiencing Your touch and faithfulness. blessings continued. three years later You brought forth miraculous life once more. an inheritance.

here we are one year, four days later. this heart of one multiplied into a house of four.

prosperity. hope. a future.

humbly, i bow in adoration and gratitude of Your character.

meditating on mark 4:35-41

He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, "Quiet! Be still!" Then the wind died down and it was completely calm.
Mark 4:39

when the moment arrives, it doesn't sneak up like a tip-toeing child or the soft splatter of rain drops. no, much more forceful, invasive. a furious storm swells with waves crashing, confronting mortality on a fishing boat at sea. yes, that is how the moment arrives. unexpectedly, fearfully, sending us into a panic without a plan. what now - ride the turbulent waves, jump ship and tread water....
did i hear that someone is sleeping through this calamity? how could that be possible!
wake! arise and see that death is clawing at our boat! certainly we will not survive this chaotic experience. do you not care?

i humbly confess with a heart that comes so short, this is my reaction - God, can you see this turmoil i am experiencing? are you slumbering through my agony? do you not care?

crashing waves, devastating winds, rising waters test the foundation. what do i grasp for, cling to with whitening knuckles - my ability, intelligence, resources, relationships, possessions? all had their time of reign, idolatry.

yet my soul aches and stirs with truth.

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.
Proverbs 3:5

maybe this will help...i will do that next...then i will try....
emptying meager assets like contents of an overturned purse. God responds, "Quiet! Be still!" focus averts from problems, fear, the doom of possibilities and stills. quiet. peace. why was that not my first response when anxiety arose? i cry out, "Father!" and He answers, always. His character is security wooing my trust. regardless of what i can reason through or understand, He is.

crashing waves, devastating winds, rising waters test this foundation and find it secure, unscathed.

He is.