Knit and Pray

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

On the Brink of Easter

Life.
Renewal.
Remebering.

Spring exploded in the Texas Hill Country this year. After several years of deathly droughts, rain has come. We bombarded heaven with our thanksgiving for the clean air (even if it is filled with pollens that clog our noses, throats, heads, and chests) and we praised God, loudly, for all the days of cloudy skies and for every drop of every sprinkle, drizzle, and mist, we received. We stood on our porches and applauded the rains, and downpours. God blessed and watered our land.

Here comes one storm that brought us over two inches of delicious rain.
When the sun came out, for the first time in about three years lo and behold our city lots, country roads, and busy highways were dotted with patches of brilliant bluebonnets and other Texas wild flowers. I got so excited about Spring that I baked my first-ever lamb cake.

Made from my Grandmother Alice's cast iron mold. Thanks, Jan, for loaning it to me for awhile.
But, regardless of all the budding life around us, the week before Easter does come and must be reckoned with. It saddens me that when Lent begins, I can no longer climb up on a ladder and hang a purple drape on the 15-foot cross that stands at the road by our fence. So, in recent years, our dining room buffet holds the reminder of the meaning of Easter.

This favorite "Nativity" of mine celebrates our Christmas every year and then
comes back out at Easter to remind us that from birth, Jesus headed to the cross

There was plenty to do as spring got underway. The skies cleared, the sun came out, and the temperatures hit 90 the first week of April.  !!!

My Laura Bush petunias pushed up through the rocks to show their reminder of Easter.
The next thing we knew, kids were wearing shorts and trying out for baseball and many of us old ladies quickly exchanged jeans and sweats for cool, comfy, and colorful capri pants. Dear Heart even took me to lunch today... downtown.... on Main Street... and we chose an outdoor table.

But, tonight, as is my custom on the eve of Maundy Thursday, I covered the cross in our dining room with black. My mood darkens. I think. I read again the promises.

                                                                       

Tomorrow as I run errands and clean house, I will ponder on many things. I will slow my steps and dwell on the dark days that went before the first Easter Sunday. Tomorrow night I will gather with others at church and we will be reminded to find ways to wash the feet of other saints and fellow servants. Then, following the command of Jesus, we will drink from the cup and eat the bread and remember His lessons. We will leave church, hopeful but confused.

Friday night, we will return, worried, afraid, sad, and more confused to a darkened, stark, cross-less, church. The death bell will sound... long... and deep.... and dark. The rumors are true. Jesus is dead. The promises are empty.

Saturday, I will wander aimlessly and mourn and grieve and wonder..........

Please join me on Sunday..... for the beginning of our journey.


Liz

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