I would like to say my observance of the Triduum, these high
holy days leading up to Easter, began with a profundity befitting of such
important days. I have this nostalgic longing for my ministry days before kids,
when I could start the day in quiet study and reflection on such a day.
Okay, that’s a cop out. I could get up early and have quiet.
Except my 19 month old wakes up between 5 and 5:45 a.m. Every. Single. Day. Her
sister used to also. I have been waking up before 6 am (against my will, mind
you) for over four years now. So yeah.
At any rate, I don’t know if I actually did that before
kids. I don’t actually remember. But I like to think I did. And that some day I’ll
do that again. Let’s just say that is very much NOT how this year’s Maundy
Thursday began.
Instead, I woke grumpy because Mary had inexplicably been up
for a couple hours overnight. Now, my husband, who should be sainted, took her
for most of that. I had her for 30, maybe 40 minutes before I cracked and had
to tap out. I managed to wind myself into my own, “I’m a PASTOR and Maundy
Thursday is TOMORROW and this kid needs to GET WITH THE PROGRAM!”
I got more sleep than Chris. I still woke grumpy though.
And you know what happens when Mommy decides to be grumpy?
Every other female in the house decides it’s grumpy day too.
Our morning did not go smoothly.
Let’s be honest, though. I have a 4 year old and an 18 month
old. Our mornings rarely go smoothly.
BUT THIS IS MAUNDY THURSDAY. What happened to the Gospel of
Mark’s account of God just making things happen? Sure, disciples, here’s a
donkey, take it. Here, disciples, is this random guy who will lead you to a
room to prepare for Passover.
WHY DOESN’T THIS EVER HAPPEN IN A PASTOR’S HOUSE DURING HOLY
WEEK?
Here’s the thing about me. I freak out. A to-do list the
size of what I began today with becomes oppressively overwhelming. And nothing
helps. Except starting to DO stuff. Anything,
really. I thrive on momentum. I actually thrive in crunch time. You know what
is really good at preventing you from getting to work and getting ANYTHING
done? Small children. This is a scientifically proven fact, and so says every
scientist who ever tried to get out of the house in the morning and drop off
small children at daycare on the way to their lab.
Finally, it happened, we were out the door. Now, you have to
understand, the 20 feet from our door to my minivan are the longest 20 feet
EVER in the morning. But we did it. I got the girls dropped at school (not
without Mary melting down with her sister’s attempt to help her get Mary’s coat
off ended in Mary face planting into the floor…).
Then I was headed to work. To the office where HUNDREDS of
bulletins needed to be printed and folded, and tons of prep stuff needed to
happen. On the way, I needed to pop by a nursing home to visit a church member
who, if I didn’t get to see today, well, at the rate things were going, I wasn’t
going to be able to dig out from bulletins and sermons till Pentecost…
Then came the call. A call from my husband. This incredible,
amazing man I got to marry. Now, Chris knows me well. He knows my morning
frustrations and anxieties melt once I start tackling my to do list. He’s
gotten really good at calming helping all three of his ladies navigate the
mornings and get out the door. He knows we’ll be fine once we’re halfway down
the driveway.
Today, though, I get this call from him and he says, “So
what do you want me to get you from Starbucks?”
More powerful loving words have never been spoken. Those
words promised not only caffeine (I’d already decided a trip for caffeine on
the way to the office was needed) but that he was coming. Unplanned. Unasked.
Coming to help.
My morning started rocky. But today I got done two days of
work in one day. My husband’s hospitality and love continues to amaze me. I love talking
about Christian hospitality, not because I’m good at it (I could stand to grow
a lot to say the least) but because Chris excels at it. It’s a good thing he’s
a camp and retreat center director. I still think Boy Scouts (OF ALL PEOPLE!!!)
should show up for a weekend camping out with some form of fire-creation. Matches.
Lighter. Rubbing sticks together. You know who happily takes then a lighter?
This guy. This guy I married.
The retreat group with crazy requests. The ones I tell him, “You
need to make them be responsible for their own actions and choices. Family Systems Theory. You know, we need to be responsible for yourselves. Who doesn’t
bring sheets?” You know what he does after I say that? He goes and takes them
sheets. Heck, he’ll probably even take them a pillow. The staff he works with
are just the same. Strange, weird people.
Some people excel at offering others hospitality but struggle
with those closest to them. Chris does not.
I cannot help but reflect on this today, as I join with
Christians around the world to reflect on Jesus’ love and sacrifice for us. Now,
my husband is not God. Or Jesus (the fact I often mistype his name “Chris” as “Christ”
is, I suspect, a job hazard).
But isn’t this how God comes to us? Precisely when we’re out
the end of our energies. Trying to hold it together ourselves. And failing
miserably. Maybe we didn’t ask for Jesus. We didn’t know how God would fix it
all. To be honest, we would have chosen another way.
God shows up.
We get to be drawn into what God is doing, and we get to be
drawn in together.
I hope that the days ahead will be for you more than a
place-holder between now and Easter. I hope it will be an opportunity for you
to reflect on the places in your life you have been trying to work out
yourself, but not doing very well at. I hope it will be a time to reflect on
how you’ve tried to define community as those most like you. At how maybe you’ve
even tried to make God come to you on your own terms. I hope you will be able,
but God’s grace, to lay all this at the feet of the cross.
And then, wait and see what our God, the God who SHOWS UP
(you know, Emmanuel) does with it all, and with your life and the world.
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