they didn't know

 

 

 

The holiest of days today.  

Good Friday.

It's hard to breathe.  

Words do not come easily. 

 

It was the third hour when they nailed him to the cross. 

From the sixth to the ninth hour 

an inexplicable darkness covered the land.

Jesus cried out with a loud voice,

 

"My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?"

What do you do with an awful loss . . . 

ripping apart . . .

feeling forsaken . . .

Is there not amazement, in experiencing great loss,

that life around you is going on . . .

that everyone is not stopped in their tracks?

Does it not show on the face, 

in the eyes . . .

the rapid heartbeat, 

the sweaty palms;

emotions swirl and eddy.

On that Friday the sun stopped shining.

God turned His back.

Jesus forsaken.

Hung there on the cross.

It was evident in their faces; 

his loved ones,

hovering nearby, bent low with grief.  

Weeping.

Mary, his mother.  Her sister.  

John, his best friend and others.

Sorrow beyond words.  Confusion and hurt.  

Death and darkness.

Life had been forever altered.

 

They didn't know that was the plan.

From the beginning.

 

But today, we know.  

It was always the plan.

Restoration, redemption, 

reconciliation, 

to bring back, to repair.

 

Around the ninth hour, 

Jesus bowed his head and gave us his spirit. 

 

Saying, "It is finished."

The words hung there too.

For the religious leaders,

the Roman guard,

the enemy of this world,

Jesus' loved ones and us today.

It is finished.

The most astonishing gift the world has ever seen.

 

That he would die in our place.

Life is forever altered.

Does it not stop us in our tracks . . .
Show on our face . . .

. . . are we amazed

 

A croissants and eclairs kind of morning

 

 

awakening

today

on a saturday

and somehow

unlike other days

for someone never usually

remembering 

most of the time

 

dreams that is

 

this time

this morning

 

in the early fog

somewhere between

sleep and consciousness

 

a pastry shoppe

filling the dream space 

with all the noise

and commotion 

and old world charm

of France

 

aromas of coffee

and pastry sweetness

conversations on surround

tables full

the hustle bustle

of the old painted door 

opening and

closing steadily

oops here comes another

newspapers spread

laptops 

and linen bags  

 

the murmuring of early

as friends meet

as orders are announced

as patrons leave

with arms full

 

the daily of this

taken for granted

 

but for me

standing there 

mesmerized

eyes wide

beyond the glass

croissants and eclairs

madeleines

covered in hazelnut

the macarons

lined up

like spring tulips

in the field

butter cookes

and lace cookies

and the little signs

describing

other goodness

never before seen

requiring a simple point

and a nod

to purchase

and now wondering

what was chosen

and then

how in the world

to stay there

but morning calling

and dreams tossed

like the covers

only a sweet beckoning

remaining

 

and thinking of the day

like a pastry shoppe

in France

 

there is so much

to choose

that is good

today

 

a love affair

what is it about a monday 

the first of any week 

or the first of any month 

beckoning 

with opportunity 

a fresh slate to write upon

for me

a love affair

coming together as they do

today

tearing back the covers

pulling up the shade

peering out to see

newness

but for the briefest

of moments

disappointment flooding

exquisite fresh snow

of yesterday

thick on tree limbs

blanketing the landscape

now gone

driven rain falling sideways

determined to outdo

and erase 

what was celebrated

just a day ago

but undeterred 

reminded

frozen beauty suspended

by just a degree or two

dividing yesterday

from today

and in the turning of the page

feelings bursting forth

the picture outside my window

cannot erase

because today 

starting afresh

the weather reminding

just a degree of change

can make all the difference

so here on a monday

this new day

a new month

stealing the thunder

taking the grayness of winter away

for starting over

a clean page

on which to live 

to right the ship

to start again

for failure can nip at our heels

but we always

always

have a choice 

all of us

and for me

a new day and a new month

beckoning

even in the rain

today
throwing open
my window wide to the sky
cacophonous rain
thrumming
on the roof
creating such a din
deluging
the canopy of green
pavements shimmering
lights reflecting golden
on streets


a world on pause


because most
harboring safely inside


a midsummer's day full
of unexpected
in the wet and the chilly
the muted grays


like summer got angry
and throwing a fit


and life's like that


sometimes


things changing


uncomfortably
unexpectedly
and there is much lament over
what is and isn't
and the not yet


but today from a window

in watching the downpour
obliterate the sky 
and pound merciless for hours
gaining perspective
to slow
to ponder
and to see


a holy God


filling the earth with goodness


even in the midst of broken
plans going awry
lives crumbling into small pieces
disappointment showing up
seemingly capricious
and stunning


finding only God capable


of redemption


we are not


and He astonishing with love
undeserved
knitting us back together
redeeming the brokenness
ensnaring our lives


beauty today
from a window


showing up raw
and reminding


on a midsummer morning


even in the rain

a place called ordinary

for sure they do

these neighbors of mine

talking

that is

I would too you know

and

wondering

what the dickens will be the color

this time

of all the doors

on a plain white house

in a neighborhood

full of ordinary

on a summer's day

cause you see

this girl

all full of notions

and romantic

imagining other worlds

and fancy places

and often

the getting carried away

with pots of paint

reminiscent of Easter eggs

lined up on a counter

so joyous this thing

a palette of color

and a canvas to fill

so today once again

it's a door smiling back

welcoming change

out in the early

while the breeze gentle

and the air cool

but thick with birdsong

cicadas screaming

a din really

summer turned up loud

reminding this but a season

soon to change once again

so with a paint pot

and a brush

coloring a page in my book

and all the while

this summertime morning

filling the senses

and me

breathing deep of glory

and transition

seeing it now as a friend

a thing of beauty

just like a door

in a place called ordinary

of fairy sprites and zephyrs

life on pause

again today

and in the early
gazing down
at the tundra
from a window high
marveling
at so much white
covering
like icing
thick on a cake

and then
zephyrs of snow
jumping high
swirling
like fairy sprites
escaping
if just for a moment
seemingly
laughing at us
and at the day
and the cold

but for me

no slopes to slalom
no skates to lace
just time

life on pause

and reveling in it
like a cat 
in winter sunshine

drinking in beauty
being at rest

routine shattered
in a million pieces
like icicles
when they fall

and for those
fortunate enough

today

an opportunity
to slow
in a world
making busy a trophy

hitting reset
jettisoning chores
responsibility
and the routine of daily
with hilarity

unflustered by it all

and in the wake
of this decision
the unloading of guilt

much-needed rest
and quiet even

to savor a new year

to reboot

because
owning our lives
getting perspective
part of the struggle

and time put on hold
in tandem with
an Abba Father
reminding

glory

always seeping through
all the cracks
of this broken world

beauty being unfolded
like an exquisite snow-covered morning

and a day 
on pause

reminding


 

Turning a page

 

 

 

 

 

despite the bruising

 

 

 

there it is
on a day
full of gray

the sun
failing to sparkle
to fill with warmth
and the happy
we chase

clouds scuttling
fast and furious
across a landscape

and behind
a window

a canvas
and an easel
standing ready
to capture
this story
in shades
of swirling silvers
and grays
and
incandescent
light

dipping a brush
into melancholy
a day crushing
with the weight
of exquisite

in seeing light
more like
a pearl
seeping through
the barrage
of dark

and reminded

many hearts
fragile today
and
emotions swirling too
because
stories broken
and the fiber
of feel good
missing
like the sun

and in looking
through
that window

a masterpiece
starring back
at me

because

despite
the bruising
from a world
aching
so full of scarcity
and longing
the not enough
catching breaths
and deflating lives
in the lack

there really is

beauty

and a purpose
to our lives

in these days
both sun-filled
and not

if we but look

and pausing
to look beyond

into the mystery
of Glory
showing up
all the time

there it is

monday mornings sometimes

darkness

looming outside

in the early

of a morning

rain pending

tall pines

and lush green

the landscape

standing

at attention

perfectly still

waiting

even the

birds

knowing

announcing

before

the first

crack

of

thunder

before

the wind

eddying

and

stirring

before

the trees

waving

about

their 

leaf laden

arms

before

even

the pines

joining

the dance

there is a

pause

a languid

sort of

waiting

a sweet

anticipation

of surely

what is to come

drinking it in

savoring

the moment

before

a sky 

opening

and a

downpour

merciless

droplets falling

staccato

hammering

a street

thrumming

on rooftops

relentless rain

beauty surrounding

unexpected

maybe

this

God-driven

goodness

ushering in

something

as

sweet

as

summer

embracing today

and here I sit

in the ordinary

when all around

voices
yelling loud

getting my attention

to be something

extraordinary

all the days of our lives

when really

all I can do

is wake up

raise the blinds
and welcome
a new day

the beauty of it
the one chance to do
all the hours
never to be repeated
quite the same

like a snowflake
or a fingerprint
or an original painting

each one day
distinct
and full
of possibility
and choices

embracing it
in a big bear hug
and wringing out of it
every nuance
every flavor
and every opportunity

and to really see
our moments

the landscape
surrounding
loaded
with beauty

and people
some we love
others maybe
we don't
understand

and so
choosing
today

to really see
and to savor

to love back
and to linger

to forgive
and to let go

thanking God
for all this
the work
of His hands

embracing
what is

because a day
like a snowflake
melting
in your hand

never
to be repeated
quite the same

a work of art

and breathing in
the good news
not having to be
extraordinary

because
life is

and I don't want
to keep
missing it