Good Friday

Birds sing and sun shines as I try to *be* in this day.
To remember.

I’ve tried to take it in before,
To *hold* it somehow, in hopes that that would honor You.
I haven’t figured out how to do that.
My hands feel too small for its depth and width,
my spirit too blind to see Your Love on the cross, to have that Love come in and change me.

So, today, I try just to remember,
believing that the act of intentional remembering
is an act that might honor You.

Whispered “thank yous” feel too small. But I whisper anyway, wrapping
the syllables under my tongue over and over again, in hopes that perhaps repeating them will give them life.

Thank You. Thank You. Thank You….

And then I remember that Thank You is sometimes most genuinely spoken with my hands and feet. With where I go. With who I touch.
And I squeeze out a prayer for fortitude to love well and earnestly…..

You make all things new.
Those words grabbed my heart, and took it … perhaps out of everything You said that day.

That is what we need. That is what I need.
A chance at newness,
to believe that everyday when the sun rises yet again,
that things can be different,
that I can be different.
That hope is not foolish.

So, Thank You. Thank You. Thank You….

Dare I call you Savior? Out of the same mouth which come lies, apathy, unkindnesses.
Yes.
That is the point.

Today. This day.

You made all things new.

Thank You….