My fiancé and I were sitting together talking late one night when his voice mail alert kept going off. He finally decided to check it. The message was from my best friend, asking him to call her back and not to tell me. I laughed. Not telling me didn’t work very well when I was sitting there listening to the message with him!
The next day, I asked him if he’d returned her call. He had. I was curious about what they were planning, but figured I’d find out soon enough. On Friday, before dashing out the door to a weekend retreat, he quickly checked his email, in case he had to do anything else for my friend before he was gone all weekend.
On Saturday night all my girlfriends were over for my bridal shower. After sitting around chatting for a while and then having a toilet-paper bride contest, my best friend moved on to her next shower game. It was a test of how well I knew my fiancé. She’d asked him ten questions, and I had to guess what his answers were. The questions ranged from, “What did he want to be when he grew up?” to “Where was he born?”
She also asked, “What are three words he uses to describe you?” I said, “Beautiful” right away, and then remembered that we’d been asked this question at our marriage prep course, and so I gave the answers he’d given then: “Intelligent and capable.” My best friend shook her head. I’d only gotten the first answer right. The three words he’d used were, “Beautiful, amazing, and ravishing.”
My girlfriends oohed and aahed over that, as did a mutual acquaintance of ours when I told her later. She’d been on the retreat with my fiancé, also helping out with it, and told me that he’d spent all weekend talking about me and our wedding. I got thinking later about what three words I’d use to describe him. I can think of way more than three, but if I only used three, what would I use?
Brilliant is the first that comes to mind. We have an ongoing fight about who is smarter, but believe me, he’s way smarter than I am (and I like it that way). The literal meaning of faithful is the next I think of – full of faith. He’s one of the most godly men that I know. I’ve seen him living his faith and seen the respect that he gets from others for his faith. And now I’m having a problem deciding between good looking, thoughtful, gentlemanly… Maybe I’ll just say wonderful.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Her Announcement
Time's been passing swiftly, and the day is here right now,
When I ought to write about it, but it seems I don't know how,
For in words I can't describe it, and my verses won't express
Her great anticipation and her sweetest happiness,
As today she makes announcement, of her wedding that's to be,
With a heart that's overflowing with life's grandest ecstasy.
Though it breaks the family circle and it leaves an empty chair,
'Tis not the time for grieving, for there is gladness everywhere,
The birds are singing sweeter than they have for years, it seems,
And the flowers in the garden bend to listen to her dreams,
And the sun comes out the stronger and its brightest rays it sends,
Just to cheer the great announcement she is making to her friends.
So, we join the celebration, as she stands outside the gate,
That opens to the pathway where the greater charms await,
May she know life's sweetest blessing, as she journeys down the way,
And the joy be everlasting that she's tasting of today,
May the road be hedged with roses, as they travel hand in hand,
With the romance never-ending till they reach the border-land.
~Frank Carleton Nelson
When I ought to write about it, but it seems I don't know how,
For in words I can't describe it, and my verses won't express
Her great anticipation and her sweetest happiness,
As today she makes announcement, of her wedding that's to be,
With a heart that's overflowing with life's grandest ecstasy.
Though it breaks the family circle and it leaves an empty chair,
'Tis not the time for grieving, for there is gladness everywhere,
The birds are singing sweeter than they have for years, it seems,
And the flowers in the garden bend to listen to her dreams,
And the sun comes out the stronger and its brightest rays it sends,
Just to cheer the great announcement she is making to her friends.
So, we join the celebration, as she stands outside the gate,
That opens to the pathway where the greater charms await,
May she know life's sweetest blessing, as she journeys down the way,
And the joy be everlasting that she's tasting of today,
May the road be hedged with roses, as they travel hand in hand,
With the romance never-ending till they reach the border-land.
~Frank Carleton Nelson
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
"Are You Nervous?"
“Are you nervous?”
The question came from my fiance’s friend. We’d just been discussing some wedding details over lunch together, and when my fiancé disappeared to find a washroom, his friend looked at me and asked that question. I laughed.
“No,” I said. I’ve been waiting for my wedding for the last ten months and wondering why we picked such a long engagement. Nervous about getting married? I don’t think so. Not when I’m marrying my best friend, the man who knows me better than probably anybody else in my life. Not when we’ve been planning and preparing for this for so long. Not when this is my biggest dream come true.
Sometimes I look at him and try to remember what it was like when we first met each other. I realized the other day that I’ve known him for five years now. It’s almost hard to remember back that far, to think of all the things that I didn’t know about him then that I do now, and the things that I did know about him then that made me fall in love with him. He’ll tell me that he was so sure during that time that I was the girl he wanted to marry, while I wondered if he liked me and would ever say anything and what I would say if he did say something.
It’s only one month to the wedding now (and yes, I’ve been counting for a few weeks!). In some ways that feels like forever still, and in some ways it feels so quick. One month. Four weeks. Thirty days. We’ve still got a list of details to figure out and things to organize, but I know they will happen. The important stuff is in place. So am I nervous? No. Just excited.
The question came from my fiance’s friend. We’d just been discussing some wedding details over lunch together, and when my fiancé disappeared to find a washroom, his friend looked at me and asked that question. I laughed.
“No,” I said. I’ve been waiting for my wedding for the last ten months and wondering why we picked such a long engagement. Nervous about getting married? I don’t think so. Not when I’m marrying my best friend, the man who knows me better than probably anybody else in my life. Not when we’ve been planning and preparing for this for so long. Not when this is my biggest dream come true.
Sometimes I look at him and try to remember what it was like when we first met each other. I realized the other day that I’ve known him for five years now. It’s almost hard to remember back that far, to think of all the things that I didn’t know about him then that I do now, and the things that I did know about him then that made me fall in love with him. He’ll tell me that he was so sure during that time that I was the girl he wanted to marry, while I wondered if he liked me and would ever say anything and what I would say if he did say something.
It’s only one month to the wedding now (and yes, I’ve been counting for a few weeks!). In some ways that feels like forever still, and in some ways it feels so quick. One month. Four weeks. Thirty days. We’ve still got a list of details to figure out and things to organize, but I know they will happen. The important stuff is in place. So am I nervous? No. Just excited.
Monday, April 23, 2007
A Trip to Calgary
My fiancé and I headed to Calgary this weekend to visit some friends. We both have friends and family there, so our trips are usually whirlwind excursions as we try to see as many people as possible in one weekend. This weekend was no exception, even with our list of people to see being shortened by the fact that a few friends were out of town.
I was able to stay and catch up with an old friend of mine who had moved to Calgary in September. Between her being busy as a new teacher and me being busy with wedding planning, we hadn’t seen each other since then. We sat up long into the night, talking about everything that has happened to us since then. I had been thinking of her over the months, wondering how teaching was going and how she was settling into a new city. It was good to hear about all that and to see her new apartment. We exchanged moving-out stories, discussed wedding plans, and reminisced together.
On Saturday we saw nearly every part of Calgary as we leap-frogged from dropping something off to visiting with a friend to helping another friend move some stuff to meeting yet other friends for supper. My fiancé had lost a couple friends’ phone numbers when he spilled coffee on his old cell phone, so we just dropped in on those friends. On Sunday, we made it to Mass as well and managed to visit my grandparents quickly on our way home. We got home late, tired but happy.
This weekend was the only free weekend we’ve had in a long time, and the only one we’ll have before the wedding. There were certainly things we could do at home – wedding plans to work on, an apartment that hasn’t been cleaned in a couple of weeks, things to put away and organize – but we decided that it was time to get down to Calgary.
There’s a little knickknack that sits on my dresser, given to me by a friend long ago. The quote on it sums up perfectly our weekend.
I was able to stay and catch up with an old friend of mine who had moved to Calgary in September. Between her being busy as a new teacher and me being busy with wedding planning, we hadn’t seen each other since then. We sat up long into the night, talking about everything that has happened to us since then. I had been thinking of her over the months, wondering how teaching was going and how she was settling into a new city. It was good to hear about all that and to see her new apartment. We exchanged moving-out stories, discussed wedding plans, and reminisced together.
On Saturday we saw nearly every part of Calgary as we leap-frogged from dropping something off to visiting with a friend to helping another friend move some stuff to meeting yet other friends for supper. My fiancé had lost a couple friends’ phone numbers when he spilled coffee on his old cell phone, so we just dropped in on those friends. On Sunday, we made it to Mass as well and managed to visit my grandparents quickly on our way home. We got home late, tired but happy.
This weekend was the only free weekend we’ve had in a long time, and the only one we’ll have before the wedding. There were certainly things we could do at home – wedding plans to work on, an apartment that hasn’t been cleaned in a couple of weeks, things to put away and organize – but we decided that it was time to get down to Calgary.
There’s a little knickknack that sits on my dresser, given to me by a friend long ago. The quote on it sums up perfectly our weekend.
Time spent with friends,
Keeping in touch,
These are the things
That mean so much.
Keeping in touch,
These are the things
That mean so much.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Riding My Bike
I used to watch with envy the people who could hop on their bikes after work and streak off towards home. I’d be getting into my car for the 45-minute commute out of the city. In January when I started looking for an apartment in the city, I considered getting one close enough to work that I could walk every day. Then I decided that I didn’t want to live downtown, and found an apartment slightly further away. It was on a good bus route, but as summer approached, my desire to be riding awoke again. March was nice enough that I figured I’d get out my bike for April.
My fiancé helped me put my bike back together after my move. I didn’t buy a new monthly bus pass for April. I requested access to the garage and showers at work. And on Monday morning, I woke up, ready for the ride. Then I saw the snow out the window. For the next half hour, I watched the falling snowflakes and debated whether to ride or not. It might be cold out, but I could wear my mittens. But then it might be slippery. I didn’t want to be on icy roads on two wheels. But it could still be so warm out that it wasn’t slippery yet. However, if it was slippery…
I took the bus, second-guessing myself all the way to work. That afternoon we got freezing rain, the temperatures stayed cold, and the snow stuck around. I bought some bus tickets and rode the bus for the rest of the week, watching the weather forecast. On the weekend, it warmed up slightly – just enough to be nice for Easter. I got ready to ride my bike on Tuesday morning. Just after finishing breakfast, I glanced out the window to see what the weather was like. An inch of snow sat on the ground.
Mother Nature was being ironic, I decided, hopping on my bike and taking off for work. It was slightly slushy riding, a bit chilly on my ears (I was wearing my mitts), but otherwise fine, as it wasn’t cold enough to be slippery. Even with the slush and a bad cold, I made it to work in 25 minutes – the same time as on the bus. I watched it snowing all day and got my fiancé to pick me up after work. But the next day dawned sunny and warm, and I rode to and from work. It is a huge improvement over having to wait for a stuffy, crowded bus.
The other day I made it home from work in 15 minutes. It’s a three-mile ride, mostly along bike paths without any vehicle traffic, with lights at any major intersections. The other bikers nod or call “good morning” as they pass. There are people out walking their dogs or on their way to work like I am. My bum no longer complains every time I sit on my bike, and I’ve started using every gear of my 21-speed. I haven’t ridden my bike seriously in about five years, and it feels good to be out riding again.
My fiancé helped me put my bike back together after my move. I didn’t buy a new monthly bus pass for April. I requested access to the garage and showers at work. And on Monday morning, I woke up, ready for the ride. Then I saw the snow out the window. For the next half hour, I watched the falling snowflakes and debated whether to ride or not. It might be cold out, but I could wear my mittens. But then it might be slippery. I didn’t want to be on icy roads on two wheels. But it could still be so warm out that it wasn’t slippery yet. However, if it was slippery…
I took the bus, second-guessing myself all the way to work. That afternoon we got freezing rain, the temperatures stayed cold, and the snow stuck around. I bought some bus tickets and rode the bus for the rest of the week, watching the weather forecast. On the weekend, it warmed up slightly – just enough to be nice for Easter. I got ready to ride my bike on Tuesday morning. Just after finishing breakfast, I glanced out the window to see what the weather was like. An inch of snow sat on the ground.
Mother Nature was being ironic, I decided, hopping on my bike and taking off for work. It was slightly slushy riding, a bit chilly on my ears (I was wearing my mitts), but otherwise fine, as it wasn’t cold enough to be slippery. Even with the slush and a bad cold, I made it to work in 25 minutes – the same time as on the bus. I watched it snowing all day and got my fiancé to pick me up after work. But the next day dawned sunny and warm, and I rode to and from work. It is a huge improvement over having to wait for a stuffy, crowded bus.
The other day I made it home from work in 15 minutes. It’s a three-mile ride, mostly along bike paths without any vehicle traffic, with lights at any major intersections. The other bikers nod or call “good morning” as they pass. There are people out walking their dogs or on their way to work like I am. My bum no longer complains every time I sit on my bike, and I’ve started using every gear of my 21-speed. I haven’t ridden my bike seriously in about five years, and it feels good to be out riding again.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
The Rat Race
You’ve probably been wondering where I’ve been over the last week. I’m afraid it’s nothing exciting – I wasn’t kidnapped by Martians or made a millionaire by selling my novel. I’ve just been busy. Life lately has definitely seemed like a rat race. And this poor rat is falling behind. At one point, I was running a step ahead – just barely a step ahead, but ahead. Now I think I’m a step behind, and desperately trying to catch up again.
I remember a time when life was idyllic and simple, when a year was forever and Christmas always far away, when all I had to worry about was getting my schoolwork done by 2:00 to go play with my friends and being home by 5:00 to have supper. Now I don’t know where the time gets to, but it’s gone. Dates that seemed long in the future are suddenly lurking just around the corner. There are bills to pay, decisions to make, tasks to do.
My fiancé and I have this dream that maybe life will slow down after we get married. By then the wedding planning – our biggest time-consumer right now – will be over. He’ll be finished classes and frat meetings. I’ll be done RCIA. We’ve already finished marriage prep and dance classes. Somehow, though, I think that other things will keep us just as busy. He’ll start another class and rugby practice. I’ll still be volunteering as an editor and have to put together a grad school application. And the bills, decisions, and tasks never end.
So, that is my life lately. Last weekend, we were in Victoria for my cousin’s wedding. This weekend we are off to Calgary to visit friends. Tonight we are meeting with our deacon about the wedding, and tomorrow our caterer (a friend of mine). I’d crash at nights, if it wasn’t for the cold that I have right now, that keeps me awake with an annoying cough, and does nothing to reduce my stress or tiredness. But I’m still running… and maybe someday I’ll catch up again.
I remember a time when life was idyllic and simple, when a year was forever and Christmas always far away, when all I had to worry about was getting my schoolwork done by 2:00 to go play with my friends and being home by 5:00 to have supper. Now I don’t know where the time gets to, but it’s gone. Dates that seemed long in the future are suddenly lurking just around the corner. There are bills to pay, decisions to make, tasks to do.
My fiancé and I have this dream that maybe life will slow down after we get married. By then the wedding planning – our biggest time-consumer right now – will be over. He’ll be finished classes and frat meetings. I’ll be done RCIA. We’ve already finished marriage prep and dance classes. Somehow, though, I think that other things will keep us just as busy. He’ll start another class and rugby practice. I’ll still be volunteering as an editor and have to put together a grad school application. And the bills, decisions, and tasks never end.
So, that is my life lately. Last weekend, we were in Victoria for my cousin’s wedding. This weekend we are off to Calgary to visit friends. Tonight we are meeting with our deacon about the wedding, and tomorrow our caterer (a friend of mine). I’d crash at nights, if it wasn’t for the cold that I have right now, that keeps me awake with an annoying cough, and does nothing to reduce my stress or tiredness. But I’m still running… and maybe someday I’ll catch up again.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Journeys
I’ve been thinking about journeys this past week. Perhaps because this week is the conclusion of some journeys – the journey through Lent, the journey through Holy Week. As I watched The Passion on Friday, I thought about Christ’s journeys – from heaven to earth, from the stable in Bethlehem to the wedding in Cana, from revered rabbi to crucified criminal, from breaking the gates of Hell to returning to His throne in heaven.
One of my journeys concluded for me this Easter when I joined the Catholic Church. I had been waiting for Easter for a very long time. I’ve been going to a Catholic church for eighteen months now – since I stared thinking about dating my fiancé. I watched last year’s RCIA journeyers as they went through the year and then were baptized and confirmed at Easter. I wanted to be there. But I also didn’t want to jump into the program in the middle of the year. So I waited until last September to start my journey in RCIA.
And yet the journey didn’t really start there. I think back to conversations with my fiancé when we were in university, discussing our faith together. I was impressed by what he knew about what he believed. His example encouraged me to delve deeper into my faith, asking questions about the church I had grown up in, and later, asking questions about the Catholic church as well.
To go further back than that, I remember doing things with my Catholic best friend as we grew up together. There were crucifixes and Catholic books around their house. I went to church a few times with them, saw my friend confirmed and her younger sister baptized. We played quietly in the church while her mother prayed there. They lived their faith and talked about it openly. When I got confirmed in the Lutheran church in grade 6, I asked my best friend’s mom to be my sponsor. Her husband teased me about that this weekend, saying I should have known better.
So Saturday was the end of a journey for me. And yet also the beginning, as I continue to explore and learn about my faith; as my fiancé and I figure out how to practice our faith together; and as we journey towards the final Easter celebration with Christ in heaven.
One of my journeys concluded for me this Easter when I joined the Catholic Church. I had been waiting for Easter for a very long time. I’ve been going to a Catholic church for eighteen months now – since I stared thinking about dating my fiancé. I watched last year’s RCIA journeyers as they went through the year and then were baptized and confirmed at Easter. I wanted to be there. But I also didn’t want to jump into the program in the middle of the year. So I waited until last September to start my journey in RCIA.
And yet the journey didn’t really start there. I think back to conversations with my fiancé when we were in university, discussing our faith together. I was impressed by what he knew about what he believed. His example encouraged me to delve deeper into my faith, asking questions about the church I had grown up in, and later, asking questions about the Catholic church as well.
To go further back than that, I remember doing things with my Catholic best friend as we grew up together. There were crucifixes and Catholic books around their house. I went to church a few times with them, saw my friend confirmed and her younger sister baptized. We played quietly in the church while her mother prayed there. They lived their faith and talked about it openly. When I got confirmed in the Lutheran church in grade 6, I asked my best friend’s mom to be my sponsor. Her husband teased me about that this weekend, saying I should have known better.
So Saturday was the end of a journey for me. And yet also the beginning, as I continue to explore and learn about my faith; as my fiancé and I figure out how to practice our faith together; and as we journey towards the final Easter celebration with Christ in heaven.
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
Happy Birthday
“It should be here,” I said, looking up and down the street. My friend drove a bright orange truck and I knew where he usually parked. But it wasn’t here. My two friends looked at me, wondering what I was going to do next. I’d had this planned for weeks. I’d baked cookies, gotten balloons, roped them into helping me, and now his truck wasn’t here. He was supposed to be in class right now, so it had be around somewhere.
“Maybe he parked down the other street,” I said, and we set off across campus. It wasn’t there either. We tramped back again, and I scanned every side street for some glimpse of orange. One of my friends started grumbling that no one had baked him cookies or gotten him balloons for his birthday. Both of them knew, though I was trying to hide it, that I really liked this friend whom I was trying to surprise.
We eventually gave up and returned to the cafeteria. I put the cookies back in my locker, disappointed that my grand plan hadn’t worked. Later that afternoon, several of us were sitting outside on a bench, enjoying the early spring sunshine. I was done classes for the day and had some studying to do, but it was nice just to enjoy the fresh air with my friends. Then he walked up.
We chatted for several minutes, joking around and teasing each other. I ran to my locker and got his cookies, and he shared them with us. He mentioned he’d skipped class, and I scolded him. The only reason he’d come to the university was to see the registrar. He soon left to do that. As soon as he was inside, I hauled my friends off to find his truck. Sure enough, it was right where I knew it would be!
In a few minutes, we’d blown up several balloons and tied them to his antennae. Not sure when he was coming back, we scurried back to our bench, and that was where he found us when he returned. Then the others went to their classes, and he and I said goodbye and headed in opposite directions to our respective vehicles. I was almost at my car when an orange truck came around the corner, balloons flying. He pulled into the parking lot and I walked up, grinning.
“Do you know who did that?” he demanded, pointing to the balloons with a huge smile on his face.
“No, I don’t!” I exclaimed, laughing too hard to keep a straight face. “What a great idea!”
“If you find out who did it, tell them thanks, okay?” he said, looking like a kid at Christmas. I was sure he knew who had done it. He kept exclaiming how much fun the balloons were, and finally we said goodbye again and he pulled onto the street. I watched his orange truck – now even more conspicuous with bright balloons on the antennae – until it was out of sight, and then walked to my truck and drove home, grinning all the way.
That was three years ago, before we started dating. I’ve made him those cookies again since then, and we still laugh at me trying to hide my feelings for him while baking him cookies and decorating his truck. His birthday is tomorrow, and he’s trying to find out what surprises I have planned for him this year. Just something to say “Happy Birthday…”
“Maybe he parked down the other street,” I said, and we set off across campus. It wasn’t there either. We tramped back again, and I scanned every side street for some glimpse of orange. One of my friends started grumbling that no one had baked him cookies or gotten him balloons for his birthday. Both of them knew, though I was trying to hide it, that I really liked this friend whom I was trying to surprise.
We eventually gave up and returned to the cafeteria. I put the cookies back in my locker, disappointed that my grand plan hadn’t worked. Later that afternoon, several of us were sitting outside on a bench, enjoying the early spring sunshine. I was done classes for the day and had some studying to do, but it was nice just to enjoy the fresh air with my friends. Then he walked up.
We chatted for several minutes, joking around and teasing each other. I ran to my locker and got his cookies, and he shared them with us. He mentioned he’d skipped class, and I scolded him. The only reason he’d come to the university was to see the registrar. He soon left to do that. As soon as he was inside, I hauled my friends off to find his truck. Sure enough, it was right where I knew it would be!
In a few minutes, we’d blown up several balloons and tied them to his antennae. Not sure when he was coming back, we scurried back to our bench, and that was where he found us when he returned. Then the others went to their classes, and he and I said goodbye and headed in opposite directions to our respective vehicles. I was almost at my car when an orange truck came around the corner, balloons flying. He pulled into the parking lot and I walked up, grinning.
“Do you know who did that?” he demanded, pointing to the balloons with a huge smile on his face.
“No, I don’t!” I exclaimed, laughing too hard to keep a straight face. “What a great idea!”
“If you find out who did it, tell them thanks, okay?” he said, looking like a kid at Christmas. I was sure he knew who had done it. He kept exclaiming how much fun the balloons were, and finally we said goodbye again and he pulled onto the street. I watched his orange truck – now even more conspicuous with bright balloons on the antennae – until it was out of sight, and then walked to my truck and drove home, grinning all the way.
That was three years ago, before we started dating. I’ve made him those cookies again since then, and we still laugh at me trying to hide my feelings for him while baking him cookies and decorating his truck. His birthday is tomorrow, and he’s trying to find out what surprises I have planned for him this year. Just something to say “Happy Birthday…”
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
Random Coincidences
I was working at a historical telegraph station in Alice Springs, Australia, selling souvenirs and passes to the station, and my Canadian accent was a good conversation starter with the tourists who came through. When I told one lady I was from Canada, she wanted to know where in Canada. I mentioned the city and she got excited, saying she was from a small town near there – in fact, the same small town that I grew up in. We couldn’t believe that we were standing halfway around the world talking to someone from “home.” Sure, our “small town” has 10,000 people and we’d never met each other before, but we had that connection and the world felt a bit smaller.
It was a small thing, just a coincidence. But at a time when I was lonely and feeling far away from friends and family, that brief encounter made my day. I smiled whenever I thought about the lady from my hometown. I never saw her again, and maybe she doesn’t even remember the Canadian girl working at the tourist shop. But we never know how we affect the people around us.
I think about that once in a while – all the coincidences, brief encounters, connections that we take for granted. Janny was talking about this on her blog, wondering why she writes and sings when nobody seems to care. Many responded to her post to say that we never know who we touch. We don’t see the difference that we make in other people’s lives. Particularly as writers, when we throw something out in a book, a magazine, a blog, and never know how people respond to it. It may feel like nobody is reading it, when really it has made someone’s day.
As a writer, I’m interested in stories, and as I think about Holy Week, I wonder about the stories around those events. I think about all the random coincidences and chance encounters that could have happened. The Bible only tells us about a few of the people that Jesus met and touched – some blindmen, a few lepers, Lazarus, etc. What about all the people not mentioned? What about the people who didn’t meet Him directly?
I wonder about those who stood in the crowd on Palm Sunday, screaming “hosannas” because everyone else was, hoping for a coming Messiah, seeing a Man passing on a donkey… how did they react? Did they go on with their daily duties or did something change for them? I wonder about the people who saw Him teaching in the temple during the week. Did they think He was just another rabbi, and go on with their duties, or did they stop to listen to a few words, to think a bit more? I wonder about the normal citizens of Jerusalem who saw three criminals dragged out to be crucified. Did they judge the criminals for their crimes, or did they notice anything different about the One crucified in the middle?
There were millions of people in Jerusalem at that time. Jesus couldn’t touch them all. But I wonder how many little encounters – the kind we almost take for granted – made a difference in somebody’s life. Not the big, grand, raised-from-the-dead type of encounters that we all want to see. But the little things. The way He looked at someone as He passed. A few words He said as He taught. Something they heard from their neighbor about Him. Did that change a life too?
It was a small thing, just a coincidence. But at a time when I was lonely and feeling far away from friends and family, that brief encounter made my day. I smiled whenever I thought about the lady from my hometown. I never saw her again, and maybe she doesn’t even remember the Canadian girl working at the tourist shop. But we never know how we affect the people around us.
I think about that once in a while – all the coincidences, brief encounters, connections that we take for granted. Janny was talking about this on her blog, wondering why she writes and sings when nobody seems to care. Many responded to her post to say that we never know who we touch. We don’t see the difference that we make in other people’s lives. Particularly as writers, when we throw something out in a book, a magazine, a blog, and never know how people respond to it. It may feel like nobody is reading it, when really it has made someone’s day.
As a writer, I’m interested in stories, and as I think about Holy Week, I wonder about the stories around those events. I think about all the random coincidences and chance encounters that could have happened. The Bible only tells us about a few of the people that Jesus met and touched – some blindmen, a few lepers, Lazarus, etc. What about all the people not mentioned? What about the people who didn’t meet Him directly?
I wonder about those who stood in the crowd on Palm Sunday, screaming “hosannas” because everyone else was, hoping for a coming Messiah, seeing a Man passing on a donkey… how did they react? Did they go on with their daily duties or did something change for them? I wonder about the people who saw Him teaching in the temple during the week. Did they think He was just another rabbi, and go on with their duties, or did they stop to listen to a few words, to think a bit more? I wonder about the normal citizens of Jerusalem who saw three criminals dragged out to be crucified. Did they judge the criminals for their crimes, or did they notice anything different about the One crucified in the middle?
There were millions of people in Jerusalem at that time. Jesus couldn’t touch them all. But I wonder how many little encounters – the kind we almost take for granted – made a difference in somebody’s life. Not the big, grand, raised-from-the-dead type of encounters that we all want to see. But the little things. The way He looked at someone as He passed. A few words He said as He taught. Something they heard from their neighbor about Him. Did that change a life too?
Monday, April 2, 2007
Holy Week
Yesterday was the start of Holy Week, the last few days in the journey towards Easter that began over a month ago with the start of Lent. It’s the most important week in the church year and a week filled with mixed emotions – sadness at what Jesus had to suffer, joy at what is to come, wonder at the people of His day who didn’t understand, struggles to comprehend His suffering.
Suffering is something that we don’t like. Nobody wants to suffer, so we do whatever we can to avoid it. Many people ask how God can allow suffering – if He’s so good, then why do bad things happen? We discussed that yesterday morning in my RCIA group. One of the things that came up was paradoxes – things that seem bad but are really good. There are many things in the Holy Week story that are paradoxical. A king suffering. Death bringing life. Crowds that screamed “Hosanna” one day and “Crucify Him!” a few days later.
As we discussed this, we turned to the person next to us to share a paradox in our lives. I hesitated to share the one thing that I thought of – something that most people would say was bad, but was actually a good thing. My partner went first. She shared a situation similar to what I had gone through. That allowed me to share my situation and allowed us to share our pain and also our joy at the good that had come from the bad. Looking back, we can see how God was with us through the suffering, making us stronger, teaching us about Himself.
It is also a comfort to me to know that, however much I suffer, Jesus knows how it feels. He suffered too. If I have felt betrayed, wounded by those who should have loved me, how much more has He felt that way? I thought of Him riding through the crowds on Palm Sunday, knowing that in a few days these people would turn against Him. I would have wanted to turn and run, yet He kept riding. Knowing what they would do to Him, He still gave Himself for them.
Suffering is something that we don’t like. Nobody wants to suffer, so we do whatever we can to avoid it. Many people ask how God can allow suffering – if He’s so good, then why do bad things happen? We discussed that yesterday morning in my RCIA group. One of the things that came up was paradoxes – things that seem bad but are really good. There are many things in the Holy Week story that are paradoxical. A king suffering. Death bringing life. Crowds that screamed “Hosanna” one day and “Crucify Him!” a few days later.
As we discussed this, we turned to the person next to us to share a paradox in our lives. I hesitated to share the one thing that I thought of – something that most people would say was bad, but was actually a good thing. My partner went first. She shared a situation similar to what I had gone through. That allowed me to share my situation and allowed us to share our pain and also our joy at the good that had come from the bad. Looking back, we can see how God was with us through the suffering, making us stronger, teaching us about Himself.
It is also a comfort to me to know that, however much I suffer, Jesus knows how it feels. He suffered too. If I have felt betrayed, wounded by those who should have loved me, how much more has He felt that way? I thought of Him riding through the crowds on Palm Sunday, knowing that in a few days these people would turn against Him. I would have wanted to turn and run, yet He kept riding. Knowing what they would do to Him, He still gave Himself for them.
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