Lord, draw near...

Rev. John Ames, in Marilynne Robinson's Gilead:

"I mean only respect when I say that your mother has always struck me as someone with whom the Lord might have chosen to spend some part of His mortal time.  How odd it is to have to say that after all these centuries. There is an earned innocence, I believe, which is as much to be honored as the innocence of children. . . I can imagine Jesus befriending my grandfather, too, frying up some breakfast for him, talking things over with him, and in fact the old man did report several experiences of just that kind. I can't say the same for myself. I doubt I have the strength for it. This is something that has come to my mind from time to time over the years, and I don't really know what to make of it."

I finished reading Gilead yesterday, and I was blessed by this patient, lovely book.  It is full of beauty and truth and the complexity and pain of intergenerational relationships as times change–recognizing how the formative things for each generation (Civil and World Wars, poverty, times of plenty, various world events, educational ideas, influential writers, parenting styles) form varying ideals about how to live out a true and faithful Christian life. Well, that makes it sound dull and preachy and it is anything but that. Many, many things could be said and discussed about this book, but one line really stuck with me over the past few days and has been pressing on my heart as I've been busy and scattered and, yes, far from the loving and attentive mother I hope to be.

If you haven't already guessed, this is the line that echoes and makes me wonder:

". . . your mother has always struck me as someone with whom the Lord might have chosen to spend some part of His mortal time."

Like John Ames himself, I really don't know what to make of it  . . . but a great desire for becoming this sort of person wells up inside of me.

O Lord, draw near to me. May you make me into such a woman and wife and mother!

                                                      ~Sara~

The Old Schoolhouse

If you are a homeschooler, you might enjoy taking a look at the brand new Summer 2011 digital edition of . . .

           ~The Old Schoolhouse^® Magazine~

. . . which contains the same content and design as the print edition of the Summer 2011 issue which was released this week.

I have an article in the Chapel column on page 24-26. TOS is currently offering this digital issue of the magazine totally free with no strings attached. Enjoy reading my article and the rest of the magazine–no registration or email address required! If you wish, you may also share this issue of TOS with your friends by clicking on the share button at the top of the magazine pages.

                                                         ~Sara~



(Photo credit: Cover of Summer 2011 issue)
                                              

What are we doing?

Sometimes I am extra thankful for a dose of laughter.

We've had two days of rain here, maybe more, it's hard to remember. I thought it might be gone by this morning, but instead it was darker than ever. Raining that type of soaking, thunder-rumbly, straight down pouring, way-too-much-lightning-to-go-out sort of rain. My own ten kids, plus the four great kids staying with us this week (yes, 14 total), all seemed to have that mournful look on their face so well captured at the beginning of The Cat in the Hat with the boy and the girl looking out the window saying "so we sat in the house all that cold, cold wet day."

Except that my kids were not sitting still looking out the windows in a neat and tidy house.  Especially the little ones–they were running around both getting into mischief while not finding anything to do AND interrupting and making life difficult for the older kids who had decided to script and shoot a funny commercial on this inside type of day.  A bad combination.

Then The Breeze came and pushed that rain right out of here, the sun came out and shined right into my mommy heart as I realized suddenly everyone could go outside!  The wind was even so strong that, if we were lucky, the mosquitoes and deer flies might stay at bay for a little while. Yippee!

I opened wide the door to the deck and the breeze blew into the house.  Soon, two amigos and a princess (ages 4, 2, and 3) were out dancing on the deck and hopping in the little puddles and yelling reminders to me that I'd forgotten to take in the tablecloth and it is really, really soaked.  The wind was suddenly full of adventure as I saw them clinging to the deck posts like sailors holding on for dear life on a ship at sea, screaming for help from other sailors holding fast to their masts.  Smiling, I went back to preparing lunch.  Glancing out the window, I saw them across the yard, marching in the big puddle in the baby pool that had been knocked over by the storm.  March (splash), march (splash), march (splash).

Oh, my happy heart that Outside was a playroom once again.

Back on the deck again, the warm wind was stronger than ever, and Ruthie's long hair was streaming out nearly sideways to the East.  Suddenly Jonathan had an idea, "Hey guys, do this!" he said as he put his index finger up in the air. Without question, two other little index fingers went up, pointing to the sky.

8-year-old Ben came out and saw them standing there and told them, "You have to lick your finger, like this." He showed them, lick, and again point to the sky.

Everyone quite agreeably then licked and pointed their fingers to the sky.  Then again, lick and point. Lick and point.  The wind was now so strong that they were leaning to the West to keep from being blown to the East.

For a few seconds they just stood there, four kids pointing at the sky.

Suddenly Ruthie asked (yelled, really, because of the wind), "What are we doing?"

Good homeschool mom that I am, my hopes for an impromptu lesson by my scientifically-minded son explaining the detection of wind direction by sensing the cooling effects of evaporation when more technological methods are unavailable were dashed as Jonathan shrugged and looked at Ben who said...

"Oh, I don't know–it's just something you do with the wind."

                                                 ~Sara~

Times of refreshing

Windows all open,
listening to that peaceful rain.

That smell, that sound, that cool breeze... 

These times of refreshing,
a gift in July.

I started a new and interesting Bible-Reading System (Professor Grant Horner's) which has me reading ten chapters a day, from ten different places in the Bible which sounds confusing (and a bit crazy) at first, but I have found it to be very interesting and attention holding. The thing that attracted me to the plan was that the emphasis is just on reading, reading, reading and only reading . . . not contemplation, study, cross referencing, etc. This was attractive as my mental concentration powers are truly at a low point, and as I'd been going about trying to read the Bible in my normal "small amounts and really pay attention" manner–my mind was wandering, my head was often nodding, and mostly I was losing the fight to just turn off the light, snuggle up with the baby, and go to sleep. When trying to shift my reading times to less sleepy times of the day, I'd find myself re-reading over and over to try to make sure I'd gotten it, and to be honest, I'd largely given up and had been very much out of the Bible reading habit for the past month or two (or more). By last week, I was feeling very distant from the Lord, as happens when starving from the Word, when I read about this system via a friend's timely suggestion.  So this read, read, read and fill up on the Word was attractive–like a huge glass of water when you are SO thirsty on a hot day–though I was still skeptical about "just" reading (and the good professor even encourages reading quickly... and no dawdling or back reading or looking up cross-references!) OK, then.

My thought after day one was... wow, you can't read ten chapters from ten books of the Bible and not see that every author is really telling the same story ~ how could these ten very different readings have such similar themes? I was reminded of connections I'd known but forgotten, and parts of my brain were startled awake. Like a sleepy enchantment finally being broken, I hear an urgent "Awake O sleeper! Rise up from the dead, and Christ will give you light!"(Ephesians 5:14). Yes! I want to be awake!

Well, I haven't yet gotten through 30 days (which the designer of this plan recommends for trying it out) but I have already benefited from being back in the Word, even just dipping my toes in–ten toes in ten places. One thing is that throughout the day, the Lord is using His Word to speak truth to me, reminding me of Him in many things throughout the day. Though my impression had been that my comprehension was terrible, in fact, His words are coming to mind as normal everyday things remind me of spiritual things.

Today it was the rain.  Cool rain in in the midst of hot summer. So refreshing in a way that causes me to breathe deeply, relax my shoulders, set down my laundry basket, and just sit down and listen to the sound of the rain outside the window.  It seemed like a picture to me of the type of refreshing we should have in the Lord. I thought about my friend and her family in a relentlessly hot place on this planet, no air conditioning in sight (95 degrees inside her house), obeying a call to share the good news with a people living in darkness. I longed to send some of this rain to her dry and weary land, this cool breeze, some measure of refreshment . . . and also refreshing in the Lord.  And I realized that phrase "that times of refreshing may come from the presence of the Lord" was whispering to me from the reading a few days ago. 

May we all have refreshing this week, and most of all ~ times of refreshing from the presence of the Lord.

                                                  ~Sara~


Repent therefore, and turn again, that your sins may be blotted out that times of refreshing may come from the presence of the Lord, and that he may send the Christ appointed for you, Jesus, whom heaven must receive until the time for restoring all the things about which God spoke by the mouth of his holy prophets long ago. ~Acts 3:19-21


Note/Update: Added 9-9-2011 - I do really like this reading plan, but I haven't been able to keep up with the amount of reading during the school year (or even every day in the Summer!).  I'm still doing it very slowly, rotating with the bookmarks but only a few chapters a day and skipping some days. I still like this as a goal...maybe someday. In the meantime, getting all over the Bible has been good for me, even at a very slow pace.


To see how I have adapted this plan with five bookmarks and a "no-dates, you're-never-behind, no-guilt!" approach.  Please visit The Bookmarks Bible Reading Plan.  Blessings! (January 2012)

The grass of the field

Ten years ago, I didn't know that grass could grow to wave above my head.

Five years ago, I hadn't noticed that the grass that grows wild around farm fields comes in various hues of browns, yellows, greens and purples and none are the color of a well tended lawn.  The colors are rich, both lighter and deeper than I'd expect, and shifting as they wave like water upon a rolling sea. The bigger fields look and sound like a distant ocean on a windy night.

A year ago, Kevin said to me, "I think you should write about grass."

Grass?  I really hadn't been looking at grass.

Earlier this week I escaped from the house, remembering that summer is walking its slow pace through the days no matter how pressured I am feeling to do and catch-up and accomplish. Walking along in the truck tracks around the big field, I had to think to breathe and coach myself to feel the evening sun on my face and look around and really notice. Because all of that beauty is there to remind me of reality. Of the God who created it all.  And I had to shut off the voices inside my head to listen; because the outside clamor had been left at home, and what I need most, always, is to be listening for His voice. Sometimes that is easier in a field.

The grass along along the field is so tall that when I walk along with my arms outstretched like a child making airplane wings, my fingers brush right through the purple, feathery heads of the grass. And right at eye level, I can see the delicate differences between the varieties of grass in that place – pollen hanging off each little bud in the cluster like miniature flowers.  So intricate. I was struck once again by how much there is to see that I never pay attention to, laughing a bit with the wonder of something revealed suddenly right in front of me. . . and there is so much more, secret and mysterious and hidden from our sight, that we can't yet see. Things saved for the eyes of the heart.

So I remembered that Kevin had encouraged me to consider the grass. Remembered that my Lord Jesus gently tells me to consider how God clothes the grass of the field and not be anxious. Remembered that my trust only needs to be childlike. Remembered that life is fleeting, like the glory of the flower of grass. Remembered that, unlike grass, the Word of the Lord stands forever – and that Peter tells us that Word is the good news that has been preached to us. Such a gospel! Who could have imagined?

And it became easier to breathe and enjoy the beauty of that grass waving in the evening breeze, even while it is teaching me its lessons.

                                                 ~Sara~




“Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven."  ~ Matthew 18:3


“Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.

“Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble."  ~ Matthew 6:25-34 



“All flesh is like grass

and all its glory like the flower of grass.
The grass withers,
and the flower falls,
but the word of the Lord remains forever.”

And this word is the good news that was preached to you.

~ 1 Peter 1:24-25 (quoting Isaiah 40:8)

Journal Snapshots ~ Spring 2011

Hello Family, Friends, and die-hard Shull Family Fans everywhere . . . it's time for another episode of Journal Snapshots!  An insider's look at the more lighthearted moments in our household, at least from my point of view.  

                                             ~Sara~

In honor of the three distinct illnesses which have invaded our home, we are taking a holiday from school.



Enjoyed a breakfast birthday party for our newest sweet teenager, Lydia, who is turning 13 today! What a blessing to have her as a daughter... much joy for this mother to watch her children unfold and blossom like flowers in the springtime, to see more and more the uniqueness and beauty in each one.



Just sorted Mt. Washmore with the help of the three amigos. Turns out doing the laundry is a lot more fun when wrestling, giggling, and tug-o-war is involved. Who knew?



A bit annoyed that my middle-aged eyes required me to get my reading glasses before I could help Jonathan, I sat back down with a sigh. Jon lifted up my chin and looked at me seriously. Thinking he'd find it funny to see me in glasses (which I don't usually wear), I was prepared for anything but what he said, "Hmm, you look real pretty."



The birds are singing Springtime songs . . . choosing to see the sunshine and ignore the snow.



The third time the boys spilled through the door to the living room, laughing and tussling like a pile of puppies, it finally caught my attention. "What on earth are you guys doing?!?"
     Nat popped up and grinned, "What? Oh! We're cleaning."



Mud Season 101: The brown stuff that is appearing in spots as the snow melts is called "the ground." No, you can't change your clothes every time you get a teaspoon of mud on your jeans. Note: Although 40 degrees feels "so hot", as long as there is ice in the yard, its best not to go barefoot.



Signs that your child will grow up to have a cleaner house than they grew up in. You say "Hey, let's clean up your room a bit." (ie. put a few toys away) they say "Oh yeah! Let's pull out the extra mattress out from under the bed, get all the toys out from there, find the legos and vacuum under there!" Oh. I guess that is a good idea, Sam.



Kevin, to a dramatically crabby Ruthie after she was untimely waked from a nap in the van on the way home from church . . . (spoken quite cheerfully), "Boy, Ruthie, you sure are whiney . . . did you get up on the wrong side of the carseat?"



I just heard Nat humming that ol' preschool favorite... "If You're Happy and You Know It, Clap Your Hands." Then he stopped and turned to me, "Well, I'm happy... but I'm not sure I know it."



Proof-reading Grace's BU application today. It is sweet to read her essays and glimpse the heart of emerging womanhood. Joining the chorus of mothers across time and space saying "Wow, the days may be long, but the years fly by."



If our long driveway gets any muddier, I think we may need to install a chair lift to get to the house and just park out on the road. Either that or install monster truck tires on the van.



Happy kids playing outside on this early Spring day has provided time for a much needed attempt to conquer Mt. Washmore. Though it occurs to me, as I look at the kids in all their muddy glory upon the return from their adventures, that this was perhaps a counter productive laundry strategy.



Story writing in the field. Reading on the deck. Tadpole and frog egg hunting coming up, as the sound of frogs a courtin' are ringing in the neighborhood. Brothers playing baseball and basketball and getting math done with greatest speed. Collecting maple sap with Mr. Friend. Homeschool in the Springtime.



Oh, dear. I've convinced a sweet editor that an idea I have for a new article is "pure gold." Now they want to see a first draft. Unfortunately, I'm having trouble actually getting my idea out of my head and down on paper. Perhaps I'm distracted by the words "Writing" and "Easy as Pie" in the working title.



Kevin surprised me by instantly appearing with a load of firewood when I just casually mentioned it would be nice to have a fire in the fireplace. When I thanked him, he smiled "Your wish is my command . . . when I feel like it." Ah, yes, an honest Prince Charming.



Jon did not understand why we were all insisting he come inside and change his clothes again. His first selection of a new outfit after his play clothes were drenched from top to bottom in the big mud puddle? Red pajama pants and a nice dressy red sweater vest (no shirt underneath) - both inside out. And last year's green flip flops.



You know you're talking to a country girl when you say . . .
     "Hold still! There's a tick crawling on your neck!"
           And she smiles and replies, "Oh, good! A sign of Spring!"



Psalm 1, "Blessed is the man... his delight is in the law of the Lord and on this law he meditates day and night." Just pondering - That word we translate as blessed . . . we don't actually have a word that means what the original language means . . . divine joy and perfect happiness ? Pierced with godlike joy? O brain cloud, fly away so that I may abide in the Word, in Jesus, this week leading up to Resurrection Sunday.



Jon was sticking his tongue out in various directions and making hilarious, cartoon-like faces as he tried out different positions. Kevin asked him if his tongue tasted good, and he nodded 'yes' and continued to move his tongue around with comedic charm. After watching him for a few moments, Kevin asked, “Well . . . what’s it taste like?”
     Jon stopped and thought for a moment before replying seriously, “Fresh toast!”



Today at breakfast I mentioned, "Well, the royal wedding is tomorrow."
Jonathan nearly fell off his stool with excitement as he thought I was talking about a wedding in which he will be the ring bearer (in a few more weeks). First, he was happy that "the wedding" is tomorrow, and secondly... discovering that his cousin (the bride) is a princess was quite surprising.




The older kids got up as planned at 4am this morning to watch the royal wedding. Dad surprised them (and me) by obtaining and setting out English tea, shortbread, English chocolates, English muffin, proper toast, (donuts, too!) AND by getting up to join them (while I slept in 'til 8). My own Prince Charming!



Me: "Hurry up and go outside or the sun will go down!"
     A smiling teenager: "Wow Mom, good job figuring out a way to keep the sun from setting!"



Me, calling from the bathroom: "Jon, come brush your teeth!"
     Jon, from his bedroom:"I did!"
           Me:"Your toothbrush isn't wet."
                Jon:"Oh!"
He dashes into the bathroom, picks up his toothbrush, gets it wet with running water, gives it a little shake, touches it to make sure it is wet and puts it back in the cup before dashing back to his bedroom! Um... nevermind.



Happy Birthday to our beautiful Esther Rose! A spectacular bike wipe-out this morning (which destroyed a pair of pants and required much cleansing and an impressive bandage) has most likely provided a scar to commemorate her 10th birthday for years to come. Happy Birthday sweet Essie!



Me: "How about we have a new law, Thou Shalt Not Drop Things on the Floor and Leave Them Where They Lie."
      Essie: "Wow, there's going to be a lot of crimes around here!"



Exciting News! Grace got an acceptance letter from BU for the PSEO program in the mail today! Somehow this makes me feel like singing Tangled's "When Will My Life Begin..." in her honor.



Thinking through pre-registration for BU.
Me: "Ok, for electives, think of what sounds most interesting and fun without worrying about heading for degree requirements." (I'm thinking photography, bowling, underwater basket weaving, etc).
Grace, thinking for a few moments: "Well, I don't know . . . sometime I'd really like to take genetics."



Oh my. 18 inches of standing water in the basement. Looks like flotsam and jetsam down there. SuperDad is on his way home. In the meantime, pump is off so no water in the house and we'll have to turn off all the house electricity to go down there. Water table flooding or pipe break?



It's a true flood from the rising water table in our neighborhood. Our 88-year-old neighbor, Mr. Friend, says it's never been this high before. Power still off.  Learned about generators and powerful rental pumps. We got it pumped out and it is rising again from the floor up. Still much to figure out, lots of ruined junk, trying to save many bins of wet clothes that floated and tipped over. Hoping the furnace and water heater are not ruined. Pumping out one more time, then sleep.



Turns out there are a limited number of times you can turn off a main breaker before it needs to be replaced. Power and water from our electric well pump back on now.  Plus we met a nice electrician.



Today: SuperDad to install new sump pump, restore hot water (if hot water heater is OK), throw away junk, dry clothes to save them, return rented generator and pump. Bonus: piano lessons, lib. books due, and 4H dog training. Realized last night Kevin was "this close" to being in Singapore this week. So thankful he is home!



Hot water's back! Now to wash the flooded clothing we dried outside on the old wash lines. Looks like a poor quality yard sale on the front lawn with everything out of the basement. The furnace had important parts submerged so that is not looking good. Many mercies: glorious cool sunny weather, friends praying and bringing dinner, several important things were above water, good excuse to throw away junk, etc!



Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. --James 1:2-3



It's a little-known fact that the traditional gift for a 22nd anniversary is a sump pump. Thankful to be celebrating 22 years of marriage through floods and fair weather!

                                            ~to be continued!

Dandelion love

Dandelion love,

     brought to me in chubby fists

         with glowing smiles today.

A barefoot prince brings 

     violet treasures, too.  

 Sweetness gathered, 

       new each springtime morn.

Jars of captured sunlight

      line my windowsill.

         

A day of childhood marked with each bouquet.

                               ~Sara~

A soul unthawed.

So eager in these days for warmth and life,
we sit outside in hazy sun
with bare limbed trees still reaching to the sky
and call it Spring.

A baby, born to cold and snow,
delights in fists of early grass
while sitting at my feet.

And birds, so bold,
are calling echoes
here and there.

But all around, an emptiness remains
in fields and sky.

And it's quiet. Oh, so quiet.

A moment to relax my guard as winter slips away.
Thankful, I sit.  Just breathing.

Waiting.

A soul unthawed.

                                     ~Sara~

The LORD is Risen, Indeed!

I am not a natural morning person, but this Easter morning I was awake in the darkness quietly nursing the baby while half-dozing, half-praying in bed. When I first noticed the light changing I knew it was nearing dawn. I remembered it was Easter and that soon Kevin and the three oldest kids would be needing to get up for choirs and orchestra and the early service at church. I looked at the gray pre-dawn light making a small patch of light on the wall and thought about the women who were up before dawn, to walk in the cold to the tomb where Jesus lay as soon as they could call it day, dreary with grief–and found the stone rolled away.  Then the joy that rose in their hearts as they and then the disciples first discovered that Jesus had risen from the dead and then encountered their glorious Risen Lord and remembered all that He had taught and promised.

Just before the early alarm sounded, the light patch on my wall exploded into a magnificent rose-orange color such that I knew there must be a beautiful sunrise this morning, a reminder to me of the Resurrection, an encouragement deep in my soul.  As Kevin stirred, I pointed out the light patch of amazing color to him and he got up and opened the drapes.

Yes!  A glorious dawn and encouragement to our souls . . .  awake and hear the good news!

Gather Christians, this Easter morning, rejoice and be glad!

The Lord is Risen, Indeed!

I felt strangely drawn to open my computer this morning.  I say strangely because I have a "rule" to never open my computer before church on a Sunday, and it seems strange to use my unexpected peaceful alone time in that way.  Yet, I had a question about the holy spirit on my mind and so decided to look it up on the Desiring God website. I never got past the front page of DG however because I found the following post about the The Overflow of Easter, an encouragement for my soul about the resurrection and it's achievements, and I'm so glad I read it before getting the children up and going, to get ready for church this morning. My Easter worship will be richer for thinking through this.  Then I decided to share the article here and so, here I am writing before the children even wake on a Sunday morning, even Easter.  A first for sure!

And now I am about to begin my day–thinking of Brothers and Sisters throughout the world all gathering together to rejoice in the good news. And thankful for the amazing light on my wall this morning that woke me up with unexpected ease in order to remember and shout to my own soul and the world ~  Yes! The LORD is Risen! The LORD is Risen! The LORD is Risen!

The LORD is Risen, Indeed!

                                                      ~Sara~

Irrepressible light

Recently, I was thinking about the meaning of communion and the symbolism of His body broken for me, and His blood poured out for me, and unexpectedly I had an upwelling of love for our Lord Jesus and His sacrifice for us. It was wonderful for affections for Him to break through the mundane superficiality of my life and the experience was received as a gift. I knew there was nothing in me that had changed. He had opened my heart and I was grateful. Heading into Holy Week and Easter weekend I was hoping that by my own observance of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and then the joyful Resurrection Sunday that I could somehow recapture those feelings I had a few weeks ago, and also, somehow think deeply and dig deeply into my heart to get the whole picture of what He has done for us, for me. Instead–I've been sleep deprived, busy, irritable and distracted and I'm flying up to Easter with only surface attention to the passing days. How like God to give me a gift when it is obviously not of my own work and then to let me see what happens when I try to "make" my own experience!

When I was in the middle of my deeper affections a few weeks ago, I found myself reading through the Passion Week scriptures and really noticing the experience of the women who were closest to Jesus. Oh, what love! What darkness they experienced to the core of their being! And finally, what joy! They followed Him to the cross; they watched the horror unfold; they clung together; they watched their last hope fade; they watched Him suffer on the cross; they stayed until He died from crucifixion; they watched as His death was confirmed with a spear thrust to the side; they stayed to see Him taken down; they followed to see Him laid in the tomb; they left to prepare spices and ointment as darkness fell; they observed the Sabbath and left the tomb alone for agonizing hours as He lay alone, His body unprepared; they came again to anoint His body as soon as they could possibly call it dawn; they arrived to find an empty tomb; they were greatly distressed; they received the good news and explanation of the resurrection from angels; one stayed and heard the Lord Himself speak her name; they returned to the disciples to share the news of the angels and with the report of seeing Him alive... only to be received as women speaking idle talk.

But–their story was confirmed–He appeared again, and again, and again.

They loved, they feared, they followed, they watched, they were devastated, they were confused, they grieved, they cared, they waited, they went to care for his body–all dark, dark days. I try to imagine the darkness of their grief, but it is well beyond my experience. Then they were the first to hear the good news from angels, to find the empty tomb on the third day . . . just as He promised. Mary, lingering and thinking that her grief had been compounded by enemies stealing her Lord's body, is instead called by name by the resurrected Jesus. Her joy is well beyond what I can imagine.

Thinking through my impossible plan to try to feel my way through the weekend really experiencing the dark leading up to Easter, and then the joy–I find that I'm never able to get to that place of grief because the joy and light keep poking in. I'm too tired to concentrate on keeping them out and feel the darkness. I know He is alive! I can't forget the Good News because it is the strength and joy of my life. I don't feel separated from my Lord during Good Friday. I am, at times, overwhelmed with what He has done to atone for sin, once for all. But death could not keep Him in the grave. His sacrifice is perfect and He conquered death for Love and His Glory. At the same time He is here with me on my superficial, tired days, leading me and carrying me and taking me where I need to be step-by-step and giving me the gifts of feeling His presence and feeling deep affection for Him when it is best for me.

Let us remember His suffering.  Let us believe in Him and receive His salvation. Let us be transformed into His bride. And if in our weakness, poor affections and pale imagination we can't grieve properly on this Good Friday for our Lord's dark day or for our sins, let us rejoice that we live on this side of Easter and that what He has accomplished is not dependent on what we do at all.

Yes, let us rejoice this Easter and every day, for the Lord is Risen, Indeed!

                                                                               ~Sara~

ps.  I wrote this on Good Friday 2010, but it reflects so much of my feelings this year as well, I decided to repost.  We are weak . . . Rejoice!