Springtime and today
"Shy? Shy??" Shy means outside, and these are Trey's words as he presses his entire body up against the door leading to the porch. This happens at least three or four times every day, in spite of weather or darkness.
And who can blame him? Even with the exorbitant amounts of rain we have been getting lately, the warmer temperatures and cool breezes are almost irresistable. Everything is in bloom, the grass is green and thick - it's enchanting.
We enjoyed some time outside last night as the sun went down, as Trey played golf with Dad, ran about 2 miles around the yard, and showed off his new skill of going down the sliding board by himself (thanks Giga!!).
Well, it's Good Friday. Holy Week and the Easter season are hitting me a little harder this year. Maybe from being in the pageant and focusing so intently on the story for the last few months. Or maybe because I'm getting a little older, Trey is getting a little older, and I am feeling almost a desperation to tell him the story. I know he's not old enough to comprehend any of it yet, nor will he sit still long enough for me to even get a few sentences out. But how I long to tell my boy what Jesus has done for him.
I've been digging a little more into the details of Jesus' last few days. I knew this before, but it had slipped away - Jesus was on the cross for six hours before He died. Six hours with nails through His hands and feet. Six hours with huge thorns pressing into His skull. Six hours of the wounds on His back from being beaten to a pulp earlier that morning rubbing raw against the coarse wood of the cross as He struggled to breathe.
Six hours of listening to the insults and trash talk of those He was dying to save.
And yet He stayed there. The things that Jesus went through, I would not wish on my worst enemy. But how glad I am that He chose to do what He did. There is not a lot of pleasantness to the remembrance of Good Friday. I feel an overwhelming grief that my sin, my selfishness and stubbornness and pride, cost that much. There is humility like no other in knowing the God who created the universe loves me enough that He paid that price for me.
I've said it before - If Good Friday were the end of the story, what a miserable, wretched people we would be. But on that incredible third day...
And who can blame him? Even with the exorbitant amounts of rain we have been getting lately, the warmer temperatures and cool breezes are almost irresistable. Everything is in bloom, the grass is green and thick - it's enchanting.
We enjoyed some time outside last night as the sun went down, as Trey played golf with Dad, ran about 2 miles around the yard, and showed off his new skill of going down the sliding board by himself (thanks Giga!!).
Well, it's Good Friday. Holy Week and the Easter season are hitting me a little harder this year. Maybe from being in the pageant and focusing so intently on the story for the last few months. Or maybe because I'm getting a little older, Trey is getting a little older, and I am feeling almost a desperation to tell him the story. I know he's not old enough to comprehend any of it yet, nor will he sit still long enough for me to even get a few sentences out. But how I long to tell my boy what Jesus has done for him.
I've been digging a little more into the details of Jesus' last few days. I knew this before, but it had slipped away - Jesus was on the cross for six hours before He died. Six hours with nails through His hands and feet. Six hours with huge thorns pressing into His skull. Six hours of the wounds on His back from being beaten to a pulp earlier that morning rubbing raw against the coarse wood of the cross as He struggled to breathe.
Six hours of listening to the insults and trash talk of those He was dying to save.
And yet He stayed there. The things that Jesus went through, I would not wish on my worst enemy. But how glad I am that He chose to do what He did. There is not a lot of pleasantness to the remembrance of Good Friday. I feel an overwhelming grief that my sin, my selfishness and stubbornness and pride, cost that much. There is humility like no other in knowing the God who created the universe loves me enough that He paid that price for me.
I've said it before - If Good Friday were the end of the story, what a miserable, wretched people we would be. But on that incredible third day...
Comments
Anyway, I loved this post. Thank you!