There will forever be two days each year that feel like the anniversary of the day we said Goodbye (for now) to my dad – March 31 and Easter Sunday. Because in 2013, they were the same day.
And months ago, when we started planning an Easter Sunday service, I didn’t think anything of it. When someone asked if I would do a spoken word piece for the service, I agreed – because I get really excited about spoken word – and I didn’t think for a second about the previous year’s Easter Sunday service.
As the theme developed and emerged as Greater Than, I just made a note and jotted down a few initial ideas. I didn’t think for a how a year earlier, on Easter Sunday, we had hoped and prayed to the last that God would prove greater than blood clots and brain damage and comas.
Over the course of the following few weeks I added details to the thematic elements, and random lines that would get stuck in somewhere or omitted, and all I thought about it was about word pairs and off-rhymes.
It wasn’t until the night before, as I finally ironed out the last stanzas and tried to memorize what I hoped would be an accelerating crescendo, that I realized the full irony of what was about to happen. Read more…
I didn’t need a photo-dump or a delicately selected #misplacedmagnet to tell me that March was about questions. My head is full of them still, and I’m hoping April showers will bring more than usual this year.
(Although May flowers would still be nice, because whatever nibbled my tulips to death last spring is back and I’m stinking angry about it. If I catch whatever it is, we’re having stew. Plant-based diet be … put on hold.)
Sometimes his expression evokes the questions he doesn’t yet have words for. Sometimes he wears a guitar cable like a bandelier and bangs on a stock pot with his little, wooden Thor hammer, and his expression seems to ask what you could possibly be asking. Silly me.
For him, in this season, questions lead to discovery. Large domesticated rabbits on thrones in the mall, puddles, mud, foods, books … His greatest, most pressing questions can be explored, answers found, consequences minimal.
Unless it’s after lunch and he hasn’t had a nap, then the consequences are sometimes tragic. Sometimes Jesus gets decapitated. Read more…
Can you believe it? It’s been a year since you’ve been gone. If someone corrected me, showed me how I was reading the calendar wrong, and pointed out that’s really only been a month, I would believe him. It feels more like a month.
Except that the baby isn’t a baby anymore.
I know you see, but sometimes I wish you were here to hold him. He’s so funny and he’s so smart. And already so much like you.
His hands remind me of you – wide fingernails and palms. He definitely doesn’t get that from his father. He’s going to have your hands, and I hope every time he notices their strength he remembers stories that we’ll tell him about you.
And he’s got the dog whisperer gene. He loves dogs and they love him. Just last week we were out walking, and two big golden retrievers came charging their fence as we passed. Playfully – I know these dogs – but still barking and jumping and moving really fast. He squealed his excitement and ran toward the fence. He has no fear. Read more…