The Promised Friday

It’s been a long week. A long seven weeks, really. Migraines and ER visits and a puking kid among personal attacks, and a host of other junk. Trust me when I say we have met some breaking points as a family. 

So I sat down to eat lunch with my babies today to realize I have not talked much about Good Friday with Elle. I’ve been cleaning up puke the last few days and am barely awake enough to know my name. So I put Bethel on as has become a lunch custom on and off. Tears stung my eyes immediately as I wondered what I’d say to explain this Good Friday to an almost three-year-old.

I’m not a very demonstrative person but couldn’t help raising my hands to the sky and singing along. She looked at me like I was nuts then put her hand in the air too. I taught Sunday school last week and the curriculum suggested I have the kids raise their arms whenever I said the word hosanna. We were talking about the triumphal entry when Jesus came in on a donkey and the people put their palms in the air exclaiming, Hosanna! I had to quickly move on after seeing 15 toddlers raising their hands shouting Hosanna to not end up a puddle on the floor. (Lord, let it be.)

So I explained that singing with your hand up is kind of like saying Hosanna. Anyway, all of that to say she had a small reference for worship and why you would put your hands in the air.

Then I continued,

“Elle today is called Good Friday. That means that one day many, many, many years ago Jesus died.”

“Jesus who lives in my heart?”

“Yes. Jesus died all those years ago so that we can live with him forever, now in your heart but one day in heaven. We’ll live with him forever there.”

“Grandy gonna be there? And Ephram? How about Mimi? Kevin?”

Lord, let it be.

“Yes, sweetie. Anyone who believes in Jesus will be there.”

“Vera Jade? Uncle Raphy? You and daddy and baby Jay”

Oh Lord,  let it be.

“Yes.”

“That’s silly. Jesus lives in my heart”.

Lord, I beg you,  let that be so.

“Yep he does. But one day we’ll all be in heaven and Jesus will be there too.

“I gonna run with Jesus on the gold streets. I’m a good runner. Why you cryin, mommy?”

“Oh, Elle. Sometimes people cry when they’re happy. Anyway, two days later there was a miracle. He came back to life! He showed up to Mary and some friends and he was back.”

“Woooooow. I Love Mary. Like at Mom moms.

“Yep. Mom mom does have a statue of Mary out front. Anyway, he came back to show people that He really was their savior and to tell them some important instructions”.

<<eyes glazed over eating popcorn>>

Its all somehow new this year. Experiencing this Good Friday with a wondering three year old after a really, really hard seven weeks. I’m stripped bare. 
Take everything, Lord. Let my babies love and fear you, everything else is meaningless. Take them over, they were yours first. Help us point them to you.

Can I just say, that’s not the end of the story? These seven weeks have been brutal. Relentless. But there have been moments of incredible beauty. Almost decade long prayers that D has prayed have been answered, (Ask him about it!). The Lord has been so strategic in confirming things that I needed to hear through precious people that I trust. He has filled bizarre, unspoken needs through friends, healed areas of my heart I thought were “good” that He wants whole. He has opened conversations about the miraculous, brought crazy, tear-stained conversations about gifts and the beauty of surrender. It is more and bigger than words at this point. I can’t wait to look back in six months and see a clearer picture of why and how but for now we are happy to be in the midst of relentlessness if it means this crazy beauty. We’ll choose both any day.

Do you have anywhere to go for Easter? Consider coming to Horizon. My hubs is leading worship, there is a greatSunday school for your kids to play and learn, it’ll be great. Are you family? A friend? We want you there-consider this your personal invitation. I swear, we’re 200 normal people, just like you. Join us.

Are you having a rough day? Be thankful your grandmother isn’t making you wear these. 😂

  


Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s