As I sit here in real time wrestling with the conflicting paradoxes of my personal life, I am not lost to the weight and measure of this day – Good Friday. How the tragic destruction of someone so guiltless is considered GOOD. How through his death we are given life and the fullness of relationship with him forever. How the ugly and beautiful sit in the space together. This cannot be overlooked. There is grief, there is joy. There is sorrow, there is forgiveness. There is weeping which will turn into rejoicing. These things must sit together.
But this holy day of sitting in the grief of the cross knowing that we can also hold his absolute conquering over death in our other hand is a habit, a liturgy, that we can carry in our everyday.
It looks like reading spelling words to one child while the toddler is pulling on your leg and the other one is opening up the paints.
It looks like “Mom can I sew on your sewing machine?” while you can hardly open your eyelids from exhaustion.
It looks like dishes piled in both sinks while putting your shoes on to collect flowers like you told them you would.
It’s singing a hymn in the middle of the living room WHILE they are all squabbling.
It’s letting them on the counter while you cook when you just want to be efficient.
It’s biting your tongue when you want to finish their sentences for them.
Grief + Joy.
Exhaustion + Connection.
Bickering + Singing.
Creating + Destroying.
Misunderstanding + Peace.
Let’s let them sit together.
“One foot in front of the other my darling. Lift up your face so the sun can shine on it.”Palm Lines, Lowland Hum